Departure
by meixel
Summary: A 'what happened instead' (alternate ending!) set around the time of "Thrill Killers". Opportunities and circumstances provide options as Steve reconsiders his life's work. What is really driving him away? Can Mike stand aside and watch Steve leave? Or will a brewing and dangerous situation between two criminal organizations put an end to any plans he has?
1. Act 1, Part 1: The Summer of '76

A/N: This story is an alternative to the "Thrill Killers" episode in season 5. There are certain commonalities and references to the original story, especially in the early going.

I do not own the characters or original story nor do I profit from them. This is done for fun and skill development.

Mike narrates the parts in _italics. _Reviews are most welcome!

* * *

**Departure**

Act 1, Part 1: The Summer of '76

It's summertime in San Francisco. Jeannie is finally home for good from college, but academia is not completely out of the picture for one of the detectives.

* * *

_I consider it 'prophetic irony'. Every so often, a person makes an innocent comment which in hindsight is recognized to be the precursor of an event, either good or bad. It can be a statement of blessings or a simple pronouncement, as in : "I can't imagine being any happier." I said those same words to my wife shortly before she told me she was expecting our daughter, Jeannie. (And come to find out, I became much happier after our little girl was born.)_

_Providence can take the meaning of words another way. A remark can be a declaration reflective of life's good fortunes which, in turn, tempts fate. Think of a man saying "My job is going well" only to be laid off days later._

_I made such a statement to Jeannie one early summer morning. I remember it well. We were in the kitchen chatting while she made coffee. My little girl wasn't so little anymore. She was twenty-four and had just moved home after finishing college in Arizona. In the last six years, she earned her Bachelors in Sociology and Masters in Public Policy. My partner, Steve, was on his way over for a quick breakfast before we headed into the police station. Work had been quiet, which meant that the homicide business was slow. _

_I was in a good mood and eager to get my day going. I said something to the effect of "Between my daughter and my partner, I have all I need." I kissed her on the cheek as I waited for the percolator to finish. It was a true sentiment. While I miss my wife deeply to this day, I had this wonderful young woman (Helen's very image) and this remarkable young man to fill my life. That morning, I never felt more blessed._

* * *

Mike sat his coffee down on the dining room table as he walked to answer the front door. His partner of the last five and half years, Steve Keller, waited with a newspaper tucked under one arm and a bouquet of yellow and orange flowers in his hands.

"For me? Steve, I don't know what to say." the older detective chided.

"Very funny. Where is she?" his partner looked around.

A split second later, Jeannie walked through the swinging kitchen door into the main room. She hadn't seen Steve since she returned to Phoenix after New Years. "Hiya, Steve!" she walked over to the young man. They embraced in a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek.

"These are for you, Jeannie. Consider it a 'welcome back' bouquet."

"They're beautiful and they are my favorite colors, too. They're so bright and fresh looking. Where'd you get these?"

"The grocer around the block from me usually has a very nice selection."

"I'll bet you buy flowers all the time…" Jeannie said with a wink.

"Oh, a time or two…dozen," Steve admitted as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"How is Carolyn? That is her name, right? She was quite pretty as I recall." Jeannie asked with a mischievous grin.

"Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, my dear girl," Steve said with a passable faux British accent.

"Hmmph, that's not what I heard," she grinned. "But I take it that it's going well between you two, then? You've been together a while now."

"Well, it's only been six months," Steve replied with his characteristic neck twitch followed by uncharacteristic nervousness. "We met shortly before Christmas, if you recall. As for it being serious, ask me again in another six months. I hate to cast an opinion before dating any girl at least a year."

"Rules, rules, rules!" Jean scolded lightly. "If you were madly in love, you'd throw the timetable out the window."

"Jeannie…" Mike warned. For as close as the three were, there was a certain distance they kept in matters which were deeply personal.

"Perhaps," Steve grinned. "And what about you? Didn't I hear you've stayed in touch with someone you met here late last summer?"

"Yes, that's right. I saw him some over Christmas break, too. And as a matter of fact, we have a date this weekend." There was a slight bit of defiance in her voice which Mike noted. He chose to chalk the tone up to youth.

"All the Bay area boys who have been anxiously awaiting your return will have to cool their jets. Tsk, tsk." Steve kidded.

"I should hit you with these flowers, but they are too beautiful." Jeannie said as she made an about face to the kitchen.

Steve grinned as he watched her exit.

"Breakfast is ready. Have a seat," the young woman barked seconds later from the other room.

* * *

Joey Morgan walked down the hall of his high school with shoulders slumped. The diminutive fifteen year old made his way over to his locker to get his book for the next class.

"Ew, gross, Joey - get away!" Elizabeth Becker commanded. She had the locker next to his and often delighted in insulting the young boy.

Joey looked down and tried in earnest to ignore the bad manners. It was like this for him every day. He was small, quiet and unassuming yet was rewarded only with endless teasing and insults.

"Don't be such a bitch, Elizabeth!" Adam Halsey declared. "He can't help it if he's ugly and he smells a bit." Joey's quick hope that someone would, for once, defend him was quickly dashed. Halsey flipped the three ring binder Joey carried on to the floor for effect. Papers scattered everywhere.

Elizabeth giggled as she wrapped her arm around Halsey. Joey was left to pick up the mess. No one helped, although some purposely walked on the scattered papers leaving footprints on his work.

After a full day at the police headquarters, Steve dropped Mike off and went home. As it was mid-week, Steve had few evening plans which was fine with him.

His thirty-first birthday was only months before and that milestone triggered the realization that it was time for him to settle down. Carolyn was the first girl he dated after that conscious decision. She was a willowy brunette who enjoyed much of the same things Steve did. Any time they both had two or three days off, they would go skiing at Tahoe. Locally, they enjoyed hitting the experimental restaurants and local wineries. Both being graduates of Berkeley, they often returned for concerts, lectures and sporting events.

Steve walked over to his answering machine and hit the play button.

"_Darling, it's me. I got tickets to Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart next month. Thought you'd like that, babe. I'll see you Saturday. Kisses."_

"Cool," Steve whispered allowed.

"_Steve, this is Professor Atwater. We talked last year about you taking on a teaching assignment in our Criminology department. I'd like to revisit that conversation if I could. Please give me a call at 555-965-3434."_

Steve scribbled down the number as he heard it and then stared at the piece of paper. Last year, he had met the Professor and they talked about him joining Berkeley's Criminology Department as a full time assistant professor. Being a successful grad with solid practical experience made the young man a desirable candidate.

The meeting had gone well and the school tendered an offer. Steve debated the proposal, but ultimately declined, in part, due to the heavy caseload he and Mike faced at that moment. He also valued the difference he made by doing his part in getting justice for the victims and their families.

Now, while the caseload was lighter, not much else had changed in his mind. Still, the thought of teaching at such a prominent university had its appeal. The idea of conducting university level research made the suggestion even more attractive and was the reason he had taken the conversation as far as he had a year ago.

Steve folded the paper and stuffed it in his jacket.


	2. Act 1, Part 2: The Summer of '76

Mike narration is in _italics_.

* * *

**Departure**

Act 1, Part 2: The Summer of '76

Steve's not ready to discuss his career change possibilities with his mentor; however, he shares the news with his girlfriend. Fifteen year old Joey Morgan is bullied at school.

* * *

_Steve was preoccupied the next day. I asked him if there was anything wrong. He simply shook his head and smiled. "Just a little tired," he said. I didn't doubt that. When Steve had something on his mind, he normally wore himself out thinking it through. It would be just a matter of time before he said something. After five years, I knew it was just best to wait it out._

_While today I was concerned enough to ask, this isn't the first time I've noticed he's been out of sorts. Truth be told, he has had moments of being lost in thought more these last few months. I strongly suspect that turning thirty a year or so ago had something to do with it. For some young men and women, "thirty" is a wake-up call. Kids that age take stock of how much they have compared to what they expected. _

_For Steve, it was not a measure of things he already had or expected. Instead, the real wake-up call was that at this point in his life, he questioned what he wanted. I could see that he was beginning to second guess where he was in life._

_But for an old guy like me, as a milestone, thirty was laughable. It is just the beginning, especially when you are looking through sixty year old eyes. At Steve's age, a man is just coming into his own and he has his entire life ahead of him. _

_I'd give anything to be at that age again. Not that I would change much. Really, I wouldn't change a thing. I would get to see Helen again, relive my baby girl's life and enjoy all over the job I love. These have been the best times._

* * *

Joey came home from another day at school. It was more of the same: a lonely lunch, pushing in the hallway and unthinkable torture on the school bus. His only respite from the bullying came during class, but even then teachers occasionally joined in the fun by making the teenager the butt of their jokes.

Joey's parents still grieved over the loss of their oldest son. He was killed in Vietnam four years earlier. In addition to the loss they felt, the public backlash against the war caused some of their friends and neighbors to turn their backs on the family. The backlash created a bitterness for Mr. Morgan. Here was a man who served in World War II and came home a hero. His son went to war after being called on by his country and died. Instead of sympathy, the best he got was a cold shoulder and the worst was unthinkable comments about the war and the soldiers who fought.

Mr. Morgan's temper ran short often at home. Mrs. Morgan did what she could to stay out of the way. The middle son, Jacob, left home and became a mechanic in Los Angeles.

That left Joey. The dark-haired boy was on the receiving end of his father's ranting and fury. Joey recognized that much of it was a result of his brother's death, but after a while it didn't matter. The teenager sought refuge either in his room or on the street.

Joey found himself wandering a couple of blocks over. It wasn't the best of neighborhoods and certainly not an ideal area for a boy of fifteen, but this part of town was becoming an after school habit with the boy. There were pool halls, bars and strip clubs on one side of the street. The other side had a small grocer with bars on the windows, a liquor store, two pawn shops and a place that sold donated goods. Slightly intimidated by what he saw across the street, Joey would often find himself looking in the window of the pawn shop.

Eric Hammer peered out the door of the pool hall directly across from one of the pawn shops. "That kid," Eric said to a man just a few feet away. "That kid has been roaming this street everyday for the past two weeks. Wonder where he's from?"

Buddy Hammer walked over to the door and looked the kid over from across the street. "Dunno. But I've seen him, too. Always by himself and he just seems to roam around aimlessly. Probably needs a friend."

"Hmmph," Eric cracked a grin. "Wonder if he'd be interested in a friendly game of pool? Why don't I see if I can bring him over. Hand me the pool stick. I'll tell him I need someone to practice against."

Buddy handed his brother the cue. "Good luck. Hope he won't be like the last kid."

Eric hopped across the street with a pool stick in his hand. At that time of the afternoon, there was little traffic.

"Hey, kid!" Eric approached the young man from behind. "Yeah, you."

Joey turned around and looked at the young man. Eric was late teens, but his long hair and haggard looks made him appear older.

"What do you want?" Joey asked quietly.

"I am practicing my game. I've seen you around here before and wondered if you wouldn't mind playing against me. I need to be playing against someone."

"But I don't know how to play."

"A smart looking kid like you? I bet I could teach you everything you need to know in fifteen minutes, tops. We're just across the street. You'd be helping me out and plus you'd learn something new."

Joey shrugged his shoulders. "Am I allowed in there? Aren't I too young?"

"Nah, you're fine. It's not a bar. It's just a pool joint."

Joey followed Eric back to the hall. "Do you want a pop?"

"Sure," Joey replied. This was new to have someone actually offer something to him nicely.

After a couple of hours playing and drinking soda pop, Joey said he needed to go home. "Okay, Joey. But come back tomorrow. You're a good kid and I think you can be a good player."

Joey left the pool hall and walked home. He had a slight smile on his face.

Eric watched from the door as Buddy came from behind. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think he'll be back. The kid is so desperate to have someone talk civil to him, he'll do anything."

"Yeah, I gathered that too. We'll see if he comes back," Buddy slapped Eric on the back. "If he does, we might just put him to work."

* * *

Another day came and went at the station. Mike, Steve and some of the other detectives had returned to the cold case files to see if they could find any leads their unsolved cases. A couple of the detectives were loaned to robbery and vice detail.

With little progress made that day on anything, Steve eventually went home. He called Carolyn to see if she wanted to have dinner. She agreed.

Later that evening over dinner, Steve broke the news to her that Professor Atwater had called to talk about the teaching assignment. During the day, Steve took a moment to find a phone in private and talked to the Professor. It was indeed to be a continuation of the conversation from the prior year. The men agreed to meet over the weekend.

"Darling, that's wonderful! You'd be fantastic at that. You are completely cut out for academia. And just think, you'd have the opportunity to get your graduate degree and who knows after that? Perhaps a doctorate!" she said excitedly.

Immediately, Steve felt on the defensive with his current job. "Yes, there would be some great opportunities academically. I'm not sure if I'm ready to walk away from what I do now. There are great rewards with the work I do now."

"Yes, but it's so dangerous. And really, Steve, I think your talents - your intellect - would be better appreciated in a collegiate setting. The men you work with now are so…" she hunted for the words.

"They are great men who serve this city well." Steve was unintentionally short with Carolyn.

"I know that, honey. That's not what I was getting at. You have the capacity and the capability to do the research which will make their jobs ultimately easier. You may be able to come up with ways to identify criminal behavior and address a situation before it becomes a criminal investigation. That's the value of it."

"It sounds very theoretical. It's more like 'those who can, do, those who can't, teach'," Steve said with resignation.

"Oh, none of that. In addition to valuable research work, you could be the one who inspires the next crop of detectives. So instead of one Steve Keller, there could be a dozen. And perhaps there just might be a Stephanie Keller in there, too."

"Oh, terrific. Now I'm in a dress."

"You, my dear, are sexist," Carolyn added with a wink as she drew closer for a kiss.

Steve stared intently at Carolyn. "And you, my dear, are a very beautiful and smart woman." As he slowly slid his hand onto her thigh and stroked the soft fabric of her dress, the young man leaned over and happily obliged.


	3. Act 1, Part 3: The Summer of '76

**Departure**

Act 1, Part 3: The Summer of '76

Joey seeks acceptance away from school and his broken childhood. Steve gets a tough call from the East Coast.

* * *

**Saturday**

It was no surprise to find Joey back outside of the pool hall. Not clear if Eric and Buddy were inside, the young boy peeked through the window with his hand over his eyes. Buddy saw the face peering through the window and yelled over to Eric, "Hey, looks like your little pal came back!"

Eric stepped out of the shadows and smiled. He walked over to the door and opened it. "Hey, Joey. Good to see you. Why are you looking in the window like that? Just come on in."

Joey nodded his head and slowly walked through the door. "I didn't know who was here."

"It's just us, pal. You wanna pop?" Eric asked.

"Yes, please. Can I hang out here?" Joey asked tentatively as he took the can from Eric.

Eric smiled. "Of course, you can. We have pop here that's a quarter a can. We have pool tables and a television too. We even have some snacks that aren't too expensive."

"That sounds fine to me," Joey said shyly. "I've got some money. Not a whole lot, but I get an allowance of a dollar a week."

"How old are you, kiddo?" Buddy asked.

"Fifteen."

"You're old enough to work. Why don't you get a job?"

"What would I do?" Joey asked.

"Well, at your age, you can help clean up or stock shelves. You know, I can't pay much, but I can put you to work maybe three or four hours a week doing some clean up and different things. I can probably pay you a couple of bucks an hour. How does that sound?"

Joey was overwhelmed at the idea of his sudden windfall. That could mean six or eight dollars a week which could keep him stocked in pop, snacks and pool a couple of times a week.

"It sounds good, Buddy. What do you want me to do?"

"Well, for starters, how about cleaning up around here? I can give you a mop and bucket. Later on, I may have some errands to run. You know, deliveries."

"Whatever you need, Buddy."

"Thattaboy." Buddy patted the young boy on the shoulder.

* * *

Despite being a bachelor and a man about town, certain routine items needed to be addressed. After a morning breakfast with Professor Atwater, Steve's Saturday afternoon was already quite busy. Laundry, bill paying, restocking the food supply, changing the sheets and cleaning the bathroom typically filled his day-off to-do list. While today was no exception, Steve made an extra effort to make sure his apartment was clean since he and Carolyn made plans for the evening.

Steve thought of what those plans could involve and smiled. He liked Carolyn quite a lot. In addition to all of the proper date activities they enjoyed together, Steve found her to be quite compatible physically. On evenings like these, they'd pick out a great restaurant, enjoy a fine bottle of wine and then retire to his apartment early for uninterrupted intimacy. As Steve reflected on the last weekend's date, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, I'm looking for Steve Keller."_

"This is he." Steve noted urgency in the female caller's tone.

"_Steve, it's Samantha Mason from Boston. I hope you remember me. I work for your grandfather at the university."_

"Of course, I remember you!" Puzzled by the call, an eerie feeling crept over the young man. "Is everything okay?"

Steve had spent a couple of summers with his grandfather during college and had the opportunity to meet several of his colleagues. He was particularly fond of Miss Mason, his grandfather's occasional assistant.

"_I'm afraid not. Steve, I have some bad news. Your grandfather has had a serious stroke. The prognosis is not good and the doctors advised me to contact his closest relative, which is you."_

"Oh, no. I justspoke to him last week. He sounded all right then. Can you tell me more?"

"_He was supposed to meet with some of his colleagues for coffee to discuss some staffing plans at the university for next fall. He didn't show up. Fortunately, a couple of his friends were worried, so they tried to reach him. They found him sitting up in a chair in his house, but he was not responsive."_

A knot quickly formed in Steve's stomach. "Is his conscious now?"

"_He's gone in and out. But the doctors are concerned that his body is shutting down. His kidneys are not functioning well and his liver enzymes are up. With his age, they've told us it's only a matter of time."_

"I knew this day would come, but I'm not at all prepared for it. I can be out there tomorrow, if not, today. It depends on what kind of flight I can get."

"_I know he'd appreciate that. He always spoke so highly of you to everyone here at the university. I also know that he really didn't have anyone else. You both must be very close."_

"Yes, we are. Can I get your number and contact information? I'm assuming that grandpa is in the hospital."

The conversation closed with Steve swapping information with Samantha Mason. He hung up the phone and stared down at the kitchen table. _"Such a good man. I'm going to miss him so," _Steve thought to himself.

The young man walked back into this bedroom and packed a suitcase. He called Carolyn to break their date. She conveyed her condolences. Steve decided he would swing by Mike's house on the way over to the airport. He preferred to deliver the news of his absence in person.

* * *

Mike heard the knock on the door. He checked out the window and was surprised to see the familiar Porsche on their day off. He glanced over to the porch and saw the grim expression on his partner's face.

"Steve," he said as he opened the door. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry to just show up like this. I'm headed to my grandfather's. He's had a severe stroke and the doctors don't think he'll make it much longer. He's starting to shut down, so they've called in the family. I just wanted to let you know that I would be out for a few days."

"I'm sorry to hear this. I know you've mentioned your grandfather before." Mike was oddly relieved, but he wasn't sure why. "Look, do what you need to do. You have time coming. Where are you headed?"

"Right now, to the airport. Grandpa lives in Boston, so I'm going to try to catch a flight out today."

"Is there anything I can do?" Mike thought carefully for a quick moment. "Hey, let me drive you to the airport. There's no sense in leaving your car out there."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine. Besides, it's your day off and one of the first you've had since Jeannie's been home."

"I have nothing better to do. And besides, Jeannie would insist," he said as he stood back to let Steve into his home. "Come on in. She has a date anyway. As a matter of fact, the guy is going to be over in a few minutes. They're having an early dinner and hitting the ballgame."

Mike pointed to the sofa. "Look, just give me a moment and let me change shoes and hit the little boys room." Steve looked down, saw Mike's wellworn slippers and gave a slight smile.

"As long as I'm not taking you away from anything," the young man said.

"What are partners for?" Mike said as he walked down the hall.

Jeannie poked her head into the front room. "Steve. I thought I heard someone here. How are you?"

"I'm okay. Your dad is giving me a lift to the airport."

Noting the expression on his face, Jeanne sensed that something was wrong. Steve explained the situation.

"He's a very good man. He's taught at the school for decades. Even now, in his eighties, he still has an active role in his department."

"Where and what does he teach?" Jeannie asked as she sat on the sofa next to Steve.

"He's been at Harvard for years teaching various courses in political science."

"Wow. That's impressive."

"He started there in the twenties. Can you imagine what he's seen since then? He's one of the smartest men I've ever known."

Just then, there was another knock on the front door. Jeannie walked over and peered out the window. It was her date. She opened the door and greeted her friend with a smile.

"Hi, Babe. I'm ready to go when you are," she said as he allowed her date to walk into the house.

"Great, I have a place picked out that's near the stadium." The young man looked around as he noticed that they were not alone.

Steve recognized Jeannie's date right away. He was a police officer who was about the same age as he.

"Oh, pardon my manners," Jeannie said. "Dan, this is Steve Keller, dad's partner. Steve, this is Dan Robbins."


	4. Act 1, Part 4: The Summer of '76

**Departure**

Act 1, Part 4: The Summer of '76

As Steve departs for Boston, he wonders about Mike's acceptance of Jeannie's new boyfriend. Joey becomes more of a fixture at the Hammer brothers' place.

* * *

_I walked back into the front room. Seeing the three together, it was apparent Dan was anxious to leave. Steve looked agitated and perplexed at the same time, but I figured much of that had to do with what he was going through with his grandfather and knowing that he had a seven hour flight ahead of him. Jeannie was oblivious and her normal, cheerful self. She grabbed her handbag, gave Steve a kiss on the cheek and wished him safe travels. Then she latched onto Dan's arm and took off._

_My interactions with Dan have been few and far between. Jeannie met him at a young adults' outing through our church late last summer. They kept in touch some throughout the semester and then went out once or twice over Christmas break when Jeannie was back home. The second semester was similar to the first. During that time, I ran into Dan a few times at the station. Truth be told, I think Dan is a little nervous around me._

_But he seems to be a nice young man. He's a former soldier and from what I've heard from his colleagues, he can be tough if he needs to be. Jeannie has said he's very polite and a health nut. Being army trained, he's aware of the impact of what he does on his body (unlike another young man I know). Dan tries very hard to do what's right at every level. Given what I've seen and heard, though, Dan probably tries too hard._

* * *

The pair rode mostly in silence to the airport, which was nearly an hour from Mike's house. Mike asked if Steve knew the flights available. The young man said he didn't, but was going to see if he could get a bereavement fare or just go standby.

"Is your grandfather in Boston proper?" Mike inquired.

"He's in Cambridge, near the school. He's lived in the same house for nearly fifty years."

"Oh, yeah. In that area, some of the homes are historic, aren't they?"

"His is from the 1700's. He and my grandmother bought that house nearly fifty years ago. It's a wonderful old brownstone. I spent two summers in the loft bedroom," Steve thought back for a bit. "I have a lot of good memories of that old house."

"Is your grandmother alive?"

"No, she died several years ago."

"And these are your mother's parents we're talking about?"

"Yes. Of course, you know Mom died years ago as well. She was their only child and I'm their only grandchild. So, there's not a lot of family."

"It's tough to go through this alone. I take it that Carolyn couldn't make the trip with you?" Mike asked.

"I hadn't thought to ask her. She works and I don't think there's a bereavement policy for your boyfriend's grandparent."

The pair lapsed back into silence until Steve spoke again. "So, you are okay with Jeannie dating a cop now? I thought there was a 'no cops' rule with you."

Mike sighed. "If I thought I had any real authority over who my little girl dated, I would have set up rules long ago. But she's twenty four years old and she's 'lib-er-ated'," Mike struggled as he said the word. "I believe that means she's free to date whomever or whatever she chooses."

Steve let out a slight chuckle. "So, it doesn't bother you? I thought you didn't want Jeannie to go through the angst that many cops' wives go through. You know, the stress of someday getting _that_ call." Steve had heard Mike say this many times, in fact.

Mike was philosophical with his reply. "I'd love to spare her of that, but if her true love is a cop, then who am I to tell her 'no'? By the way, do you know Dan?"

"I've met him, but I don't know him that well. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, though," Steve conceded.

"Sounds like a ringing endorsement", Mike chuckled.

"She could do better, but she could also do far worse." Steve attempted to improve his comment, but failed.

"I'll say it again: sounds like a ringing endorsement."

Steve simply replied, "Hmmm."

Minutes later, Steve inquired again. "But they have been dating for nearly a year. Why didn't you say something?"

"What's there to say? She's had maybe four or five dates with the guy over the past ten months. She dates other guys, you know. Remember, she's 'liberated'."

"Well, thank goodness for that," Steve said under his breath.

* * *

"Who are we seeing the Giants play today?" Jeannie asked Dan.

"The Cardinals. We have a chance against them too. The don't have the players they did a few years ago." Dan took a breath as if to continue.

Jeannie opted to preemptively avoid the baseball analysis and changed the subject. "Tell me about the restaurant."

"It's called 'The Pier at Candlestick'. They specialize in seafood."

"Sounds good," she smiled as she returned her glance out the window and absorbed the sights near the ballpark. She could feel the repressed childhood enthusiasm emerge as the couple drove up a side street and got a quick glimpse of Candlestick Park. Every element of the ballpark was simply thrilling. The smell of grease and beer, the stickiness of the concrete from who-knows-what and the bright green turf that always looked so perfect added to her enthusiasm.

There were times growing up when she became the son her father never had. Mike would take her to see the Giants and Athletics several times during the summer. Helen, never terribly interested in going herself, saw this as an opportunity for father and daughter to do something together. Helen would call it a 'daddy/daughter date'.

When Jeannie went away to college six years ago, she made fewer trips to the ballpark. Even though she was home in the summer, her free time was far less and the pair didn't attend as many games. It was around the time of her departure for college when Mike found a new friend to accompany him. She was happy that Steve was there to fill the void, but there were times when she desperately missed the games and her daddy/daughter dates.

* * *

Joey finished mopping the pool hall floor. "All done, Buddy."

"It looks great, kid. Thanks. Hey, there's one more thing I'd like for you to do for me."

"What's that?"

"I have a package that needs to be delivered. It's only a couple of blocks away. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure, I guess." Joey reached his hand out to take the small package.

"Good." Sensing Joey's puzzlement at the package, Buddy continued. "I sell gaming supplies on the side. Things like chalk, spare balls, darts, etc. Stuff like that. Let me show you this one." Buddy took back the package and unpacked a carefully wrapped cue ball. He resealed the package just as carefully taking a moment or two for extra effect. "I package it carefully because some of it is fragile. What I sell is primo quality and I want the merchandise to arrive without a scratch or a crack. So, my one rule is that you don't ever tamper with the package. Got it?"

Joey smiled. "Sure, Buddy, you can count on me."

"Good boy. You got a bike, Joey?"

"Yeah."

"Well, ride it over next time you are here. I may need to deliver packages to places a bit farther out. Now, this package goes to a Mr. Jones. He'll give you an envelope for payment. Come back here when you're done and I'll give you what I owe you today."

Buddy winked as Eric watched Joey leave. "A cue ball?" Eric smirked. "Where are you sending him?"

"Over to Hollings' place. I told him that I was sending the kid over as a trial run. He said he'd be ready for him."

"Excellent."


	5. Act 2, Part 1: Back to Boston

**a/n:** Some notes on Streets canon. In the series, there was very little backstory to Steve's character. It was mentioned that he was raised in Modesto, had a grandfather, no brothers and there were no parents to speak of. The character was positioned as an outsider - not only to the SF area, but in comparison to the other detectives. This story attempts to weave this canon into a 'what happened instead' explanation of how and why he ulimately leaves his partnership with Mike.

Don't own the characters or the show. Just writing for fun and to improve my skills. Thanks for your continued reading. Reviews are welcome!

* * *

**Departure**

Act 2, Part 1: Back to Boston

A heartbreaking trip and a last good-bye.

* * *

Steve was unable to get a direct flight to Boston that day. The best he could do was a late standby flight with an overnight layover in St. Louis. That, at least, got him over halfway to the east coast. He slept rather fitfully on the floor at the airport, and was first in line at the ticket counter at 6am. He landed at Logan Airport shortly after eleven the next morning. The weary traveler was disheveled, unshaven and exhausted, but far worse was the thought that his grandfather had passed away before he arrived.

He grabbed his suitcase from the overhead compartment and made his way into the terminal. After fumbling for Miss Mason's phone number, he planned to let her know he was taking a cab to the hospital. If he was too late, he'd be heartbroken, but for some reason he preferred to know that before he went any further.

"Hello," Samantha answered.

"Miss Mason? It's Steve. I wanted to let you know that I'm here in Boston, at the airport. How are things going?"

"Well, I talked to the nurse this morning. He made it through the night, but he is critical. They have him in ICU. Steve, I'm so glad you made it here. I don't have a car or I'd pick you up myself."

"No worries, Miss Mason."

"Please call me Samantha."

"Okay. Samantha, that's all right. I have no problems grabbing a cab. I know which hospital. I just wanted to know what the situation was. I assume I can stay at Grandpa's tonight?"

"Yes, and I have the key. I'll meet you at the hospital."

* * *

Tension at Joey's home continued to be high. His father was struggling on the job and the stress of inflation was beginning to take its toll on the man. He was miserable to be around. Joey's mom found an oasis at her sister's home. She asked Joey to go with her, but he declined and said he was meeting friends.

"Who are your friends, Joey? Have I met them?"

"No, ma'am. They are brothers named Eric and Buddy. They are teaching me how to play pool."

"Pool, huh? That's not exactly what I want to hear."

"But mom, they are nice guys."

"What grade are they in?"

Joey thought for a moment. "I'm not quite sure. Eric is closer to my age. He might be a senior."

"Do you have a phone number?"

"No, ma'am, but I can probably get one."

"That would be a good idea. Well, you just be careful, young man. I do care about you."

Joey sighed in relief. He didn't _exactly_ lie. Eric was younger and therefore closer to his age. Eric was also in his teens, so he _could _be a senior.

Joey rode up to the pool hall. As promised, he brought his bike in case Buddy needed him to make a delivery.

"Joey, my man!" Eric announced. "Nice bike. Do you have a lock for it?"

"No," the boy said as he leaned the bike against the store wall.

"That won't do. I don't want it to get stolen. You know this isn't the best neighborhood. Why do you park it inside the backroom? It will be safe there."

"Gee, thanks, Eric. Do you have anything for me to do?"

"Yeah, actually I do. Why don't you restock the pop machine? After that, I think Buddy had another delivery."

Joey nodded dutifully.

* * *

Steve paid the cabbie, retrieved his luggage and entered Massachusetts Memorial through the main lobby. He was approached by an attractive middle aged woman with mid length blond hair and glasses.

"Steve, is that you?" Steve still had the same boyish look as he did eight years ago and wasn't hard to recognize.

"Samantha. Yes, it's me," he walked over and the two embraced. He kissed her on the cheek as a greeting. "Pardon my appearance, but I don't travel well."

"You look fine. It's good to see you; although, I'm sorry it's under such sad circumstances."

"You know where Grandpa is?"

"Yes, the third floor. We'll take the elevator."

The pair made the journey to the ICU ward. After checking with the floor nurse, Samantha took Steve to his grandfather.

"I'll leave you alone with him. I'll take your bag and be in the waiting room."

"Thanks," Steve whispered.

Steve made his way to the semi-private area where is grandfather lay. He pulled back the curtain to find the older man asleep in the bed. Steve studied his face for a moment and had a feeling that while the man still was breathing, he was already gone. He took a quick gander at the chart near the bed. Charles McGivern. There it was in black and white. The reality hit him and he let out a deep sigh.

"Grandpa," his voice low, but childlike. "Grandpa, I hope you can hear me. It's Steve." He reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm here. I'm going to stay with you for as long as you need me to."

Steve pulled the chair over and sat with his hands clasped around his grandfather's. He bowed his head and said a silent prayer for several minutes.

"Stevie…." a painful whisper sounded.

Steve looked up and saw his grandfather staring back. Charlie had no muscle control on the right half of his face. His grandson quickly and sadly concluded they he was paralyzed on that side. He tried not to let his reaction show.

"It's a relief to see you awake, Grandpa," Steve unintentionally choked through the words.

"Must be bad…if you came out here…" the white-haired old man said as he tried to smile.

"Well, you certainly gave Miss Mason and your friends a fright. They've been awfully worried."

"No need to…worry….am in good hands now…" Charlie McGivern replied between breaths. "I'm so glad…you made it."

Steve squeezed his hand. He was afraid to think what his grandfather really meant by being in good hands.

"Stevie…you are…not too old for me…to call you that, right?"

"Right, Grandpa." Steve mustered a brave grin.

"I will see your mama…and grandma soon. I will…be okay."

Tears welled in his grandson's eyes.

"I…worry about…you, Stevie. You will be…alone now….I'm sorry….for that."

Steve's voice unapologetically cracked. "Don't worry about me, Grandpa. I'll be fine. You should be resting now."

"No, son,…important. Let me…do this." The old man paused to recapture some strength. "There is letter…you will get…when I'm gone. Read it…and consider what's…in it. You are…smart, gifted…boy. I want…to take care…of you in a way…that will last a lifetime."

"You have always taken care of me. Even when I lived with Dad's sister and husband in Modesto, you were always there for me. I can't tell you how much I appreciated that."

"Your mama…and daddy…fine people…both of them. They were…heroes." Charlie's voice raised as he tried to raise his arm.

"I know," Steve replied with a simple whisper.

"You are…their boy. God bless you."

Charlie McGivern closed his eyes. A sudden, but sustained sound brought the ICU nurse into the area. "Sir, we'll need to ask you to go to the waiting area," she said to Steve and she flipped on the intercom to the nurses station. "Code Blue to ICU Room 5."

Steve got up and walked toward the partition without thinking, but then turned around to look back at his grandfather one last time. _I love you, Grandpa. Thank you for everything. _

He turned and slowly made his way to the waiting room where Miss Mason was sitting in the corner.

"They called a Code Blue, Samantha, and then they told me to leave," he said in a weak voice.

Samantha got up and embraced the young man. "Oh, no. Poor Charlie! He was just waiting until you got here."

"I know. We had no time to spare."


	6. Act 2, Part 2: Back to Boston

**a/n** - to my friends who enjoy a good maim - perhaps the next best thing? Steve discusses his prior maims. :)

Mike's narration in italics.

* * *

**Departure**

Act 2, Part 2: Back to Boston

Steve fills his Boston friend in on what he does back home. Joey demonstrates his loyalty. Mike and Jeannie learn more about Steve's grandfather.

* * *

_Steve phoned the evening after his grandfather died. He said he spent the rest of the prior day with Samantha Mason and her other colleagues over at his grandfather's home in Cambridge. The next day they made arrangements for the funeral. Steve commented he never had to do that before, but was greatly comforted by Miss Mason's presence. _

_Steve was worried about his time away. He mentioned there would be many from the university, as well as former students, fellows and dignitaries attending the services. Because some of the mourners were arriving from out of state, Steve and Samantha needed to start the services a few days later. My partner said he'd be back home at the end of the week and could go back to work anytime after that. I missed him, but thankfully we had no new homicides for several days, so the boys and I focused on cold cases. _

_After our call, I'll admit with what Steve described, I was curious about Professor Charles McGivern. I stopped off at the library and found a current copy of the Boston Globe. While national editions often don't print obituaries, there was indeed an article about him in the paper. The headline was: "Harvard Professor and Truman Advisor Dies at 84". In addition to his teaching duties, he was a consultant on reconstruction policy after the War and had authored a couple of books on the War recovery in Europe._

_Steve never mentioned the man's accomplishments in our six years together. It would become clear to me later that while Steve possessed his family's work ethic, intellect and moral compass, he sought to find his own purpose and not rest on his family's laurels._

* * *

For the week after Joey met Eric and Buddy, the teenager was over at the pool hall nearly every afternoon. He kept the storeroom clean, stocked the pop machine and made a few deliveries. Each delivery went well and Joey brought back a sealed envelope with payment.

In exchange for his services, the boy made one or two dollars a day. But to Joey, the true value was having two young men being kind and treating him with respect. It meant the world.

"Joey's doing all right," Eric commented to his brother out of the boy's earshot.

"Yeah, he's done fine with the deliveries. He's handled himself well with the buyers. Makes me wonder if we can trust him to do more."

"Like what are you thinking about?"

"Our supplier is wanting us to do some more business from us. We can't push more if we don't have more supply. We need cash to get the supply. Maybe Joey can develop some new skills and learn a new business."

"You mean like _repo_? But he's such a young kid."

"Yeah, no one would suspect him, would they?"

"Why don't you act like a big brother and teach our Joey the fundamentals of driving? Then maybe show him some of the tricks of the trade. He'll think it's cool. Show him how to use a slim Jim, how to hotwire, lift caps, you know the drill. And then we can take him on a repo run."

* * *

Samantha proved to be a helpful partner to Steve during the funeral and its planning. The funeral itself was attended by several hundred who wanted to say good-bye to their friend and colleague. Steve heard many stories about his grandfather's sharp mind and humble nature. At the end of the funeral process, the pair collapsed in exhaustion. A few mourners made their way over to Charlie's house to share a few last memories and bid goodbye to the man's grandson.

When the last guest left, Steve locked the door and let out a deep sigh. Running his hands through his hair, he walked over to where his grandfather kept a supply of scotch and poured a drink for both Samantha and himself. Steve handed the drink to his friend and took a seat in his grandfather's favorite chair.

"Samantha, I don't know what I would have done without you. I can't thank you enough."

The woman took a sip of her drink. "Charlie and I were very close, too. I wanted to make sure he had a proper send-off. He was very good to me."

"I'm forgetting how long had you worked for him. What was it ten or fifteen years?" Steve leaned back and mindlessly ran his finger around the rim of the glass.

"Closer to twenty. Technically, I worked for the political science department, but Charlie and I had a special bond. He was like a father to me. But all of those guys - the professors - they are fantastic. You've met them before, but you were only a student yourself. Did you remember most of them when you saw them at the funeral?"

"Yes, I did. For the two summers I was here, a number of them came by here regularly. Talk about a brain trust, and they had quite a bit of respect for Grandpa."

"And you. They enjoyed meeting you and thought you were a chip off the old block. I remember you helping Charlie with his book the second summer you were here," Samantha recalled.

Steve was caught in the memory as well. "You and I proofed the manuscript for his analysis on the Marshall plan. Remember? It focused on the post-war election processes of the occupied countries. Grandpa let me help edit the piece on France. It was an interesting spin since most of the work at that point was economically focused."

"That was a sweet dedication he wrote in the book, too."

"For both of us," Steve smiled - he lifted his glass to toast.

Samantha tilted her glass upward, smiled and then closed her eyes for a moment. "Steve, there's something that I need to let you know. Charlie's last Will and Testament will be executed by his attorney. The attorney is over in London right now, but is due back by the end of the month. You should be getting a letter as well as a copy of the will."

"Grandpa said something about a letter. Really, it was the last thing he talked about."

"Did he tell you what was in it?"

"No, only that he wanted to make sure I was taken care of. Samantha, I do okay. I hope he knew that."

"Absolutely, he knew it! He was so proud of you. But he was worried. He knew you had been shot, you know."

"How did he know that?" Steve couldn't hide his surprise.

"The one time you were in the hospital for quite a few days, he called your office when he couldn't reach you at home. He talked to your boss."

"Ah. Mike didn't tell me that." Steve gave a perplexed look and imagined how that conversation could have gone.

"Charlie probably swore him to secrecy. He didn't want you to think he was checking up on you. He was just concerned," Samantha commented. "But the point is, that your job is very dangerous. He didn't want to lose you, too."

"I know. That's why I never told him about my injuries."

Samantha frowned. "That's plural, Steve. Just how many times were you shot?"

"Well, it's going to sound like I'm always in the wrong place, but…three times."

"Good grief! You're barely thirty and you've been shot in the line of duty three times?"

"Well, what can I say? Once was in the leg when I was in pursuit of someone. Another time, I was the one being pursued. I was escorting a witness back to San Francisco from up north, and the bad guys went after us. That was actually the worst injury. I was shot in the lower side of my back."

"You're kidding!"

"We were ambushed in a rural area. The maniacs ran us off the road and then started shooting. We ended up in a forest several miles out of town. They gave chase, and I was shot while we were running," Steve paused for a moment. "I didn't think we were going to make it out of that one. Anyway, Mike got a police helicopter involved to find us. Once we were found, we flew to the hospital. I passed out by the time we landed and was in the hospital for a solid week."

Samantha shook her head as Steve continued. "And then finally: the last time I was shot, there had been a threat against a superior court judge. Mike went undercover and posed as the judge. I got word that killer was going after him at the courthouse. I got there just in time, but unfortunately, the gunman turned his sites on me. It wasn't too bad of an injury, but it happened just the same."

"I can tell you that Charlie didn't know anything about the other two shootings. He just knew about the leg injury."

"After what he went through already, I didn't want to add to that."

Samantha knew that Charlie never got over the death of his daughter. They had spent many evenings discussing her death and the impact it had. It was one of the reasons their own father/daughter bond grew. Samantha never intended to be a substitute for Charlie's daughter and deep in his heart, she never did. Still, their relationship helped to fill the hole Steve's mother left.

After a moment's reflection, Samantha continued. "At any rate, Steve, I can't say what Charlie has done, because I may not know the latest version. It will be disclosed in the letter. But I do know that he wanted to provide you with opportunities to get to where you want to go.

"I don't know what to say. He was such an amazing man. I'm humbled to have been related to him."

"He had so much faith in you. No one ever made him prouder."

* * *

Jeannie came home early that evening and saw Mike reading a photo copy of a story.

"What do you have there, Mike?" she said as she looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, this. I was going to show it to you. It's an article on Steve's grandfather. In addition to being an Ivy League professor, he was also an author and presidential advisor," Mike announced. "Here, look."

Mike handed the paper to his daughter as Jeannie smiled. _Even while holding a newspaper article on his grandfather, Mike found still yet another reason to be proud of Steve. _

Jeannie read the paper and commented. "It says he published two books on reconstruction. Did you find those at the library, too?"

"No, I had to get back to the station, so I left after I copied this article."

Jeannie continued to read. "How sad that he was proceeded in death by his wife and daughter. Was his daughter Steve's mother?"

"I believe so. He never mentioned what happened to her, only that she died several years before."

"I wonder what happened." Jeannie commented aloud as she continued reading. "Her name was Deborah Erin McGivern Keller d'Aumont. She must have remarried. Did Steve's father die too?"

"Yes. He never came out and said what happened in either case, but I always assumed they died together in an accident. I don't know why. I guess I was wrong on that."

"Poor man," Jeannie said, thinking of Charlie McGivern. "To lose a daughter at such a young age. That would be awful."

Standing next to Jeannie, Mike draped his arm around her shoulder and give her a gentle hug. "Yes, it would."


	7. Act 2, Part 3: Back to Boston

**a/n** - I have a continuity error in my story. In Chapter 3, I made Samantha Mason out to be someone who Steve met briefly years ago. She was formal with him and even called him "Mr. Keller". But as the story evolved, I made them much closer and had them working on a manuscript together. Nothing romantic, but nevertheless, they knew each other better than what I had in Chap 3. I made some minor adjustments there.

* * *

**Departure**

Act 2, Part 3: Back to Boston

Finally home, Steve tries to settle back in. Joey begins to learn the art of repo.

* * *

"Michael," Steve extended his hand as he greeted his partner at the terminal gate. "It's good to be home. You didn't have to pick me up, you know. I could have taken the bus in, but I appreciate not having to."

"I told you when you left - that's what partners are for, Buddy boy. Besides, I wanted to make sure you got your car back. Now come on - let's get your garment bag and get you home. I guess your luggage will fit in that little box you call a trunk." Mike grabbed Steve's small suitcase from his hand and proceeded to carry it for him.

"You drove the Porsche down here?" Steve was just a little surprised as he shoved his hands into his pockets and let Mike carry the bag.

"I do know how to drive a stick, Hotshot."

"Hope the gearshift is okay. I'll bet the seat is all the way back, too," Steve cracked with a lopsided grin.

"Very funny, Wiseguy. Next time you can walk back. Where's that girlfriend of yours anyway? How could she pass up a homecoming opportunity like this?"

"She went down to Monterrey for her ten year high school reunion."

"She didn't rope you into that?"

"Well, she almost did. I was going to go, but of course all this happened with grandpa. I didn't think I would be in a reunion mood after this past week."

"Was she upset?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve said with a sigh. "Delaying the funeral, which in turn delayed my return, didn't go over so well."

"Kind of selfish on her part, don't you think?"

"Actually, that's what _she_ said to _me. _She said I was being selfish staying so long. I think she got that way only after she called grandpa's house and Samantha answered the phone."

"Jealous, huh?," Mike asked as the pair continued walking. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Does she have cause to be jealous?"

"What? Who? Of Samantha? She's got twenty years on me, so no."

"What's wrong with age, Buddy boy?"

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. "Nothing. She's just old enough to be my mother. She even resembles her some," the young man said with some thought. "Only Samantha has blonde hair; Mom's hair was red."

Mike decided to switch the conversation away from Steve's mother and back to Carolyn. "So, no cause to be jealous, then huh?"

"I didn't think so, but you never know with Carolyn."

"How was your flight back?"

"Better than going out, that's for sure. I had a ticket booked all the way through instead of going standby on two flights and staying overnight in St. Louis."

"Ah, St. Louis - home of the Gateway Arch, Stan the Man, and the best beer in the country," Mike mused.

"It's also home of the hardest airport floors. It took me days to work that crick out of my neck," he said as he rubbed underneath his jaw for effect. "But I did get to see the arch - flew right over it. It's amazing. It looks like a giant hook just waiting for a tether."

Mike squinted at the mental image. "Only you would think of something like that. Everything turn out okay in Boston? I mean after all that happened."

"Oh, sure. I'm going to miss my grandfather terribly. But you know, in the scheme of things - he lived to his mid-eighties and then he went quickly. He didn't suffer. You can't do much better than that."

"I suppose not," Mike agreed.

"And he kept his wits about him. He was active with the university right until the end."

"He sounds like he was something, Steve. I would have liked to have met him. Did he ever come out here?"

"No, he didn't fly and the drive was too long. He'd never been west of Chicago," Steve said as they neared the luggage carousel. "I understand, though, that you did get to speak to him once."

"Who told you that?"

"Samantha. She said he called you when he couldn't reach me at home and that you told him that I was in the hospital. This was after I'd been shot over by the warehouse area."

"Well, I couldn't lie to the man. He was your grandfather. He had a right to know," Mike spoke defensively but then softened as he recalled the conversation. "But he sure didn't want you to know that we spoke. He was worried about you, but he also wanted you to think that you were handling things on your own. If it'd been me, I would have come out here and kicked your ass."

"Why?"

"Just because, Buddy boy. Just because."

* * *

"Okay, Joey. I'm going to take you around the block in the car. Now, pay attention. You need to learn how to drive and I'm going to teach you. Has your dad shown you anything about cars?" Eric asked his young companion.

"Nah, not really. When I was little, I used to sit on his lap and he'd let me drive, but that was a long time ago. Now, he doesn't do much but watch television and yell."

"Then that settles it. The car is back in the alley. Let's go for a little spin."

The pair got into an older model Nova. The gray car was in need of a paint job, but was otherwise clean and had a colorful checked interior.

"Now, this is an automatic. It will be easy to learn…"

And so the lesson went. The pair spent the better part of two hours starting the car, driving around the block and parking.

"You did well, my man. We'll do this again tomorrow night. Can you make it?"

"Sure, Eric. This is great."

"Okay, you come over. I think Buddy is going to have some more deliveries for you. And then we'll do our driving lesson. I want to show you some other things about cars, too."

"Like what?"

"Like how to get into them or start them if you can't find your keys."

"You mean breaking in or hotwiring?" the youth inquired.

"Something like that. What do you know about it?"

"I know you and Buddy do repo work and that's probably how you get the cars, right?"

"Yeah, it is sometimes. How'd you like to help us in the repo business?"

"Will I make more money?" Joey grinned.

"We'll see about it," Eric said as he ruffled the back of the boy's head.

Joey was elated about becoming closer to Eric and Buddy. While small in stature, the dark-haired, doe-eyed boy began thinking about following his older brother to Los Angeles. His head was filling with dreams of departing his home and starting a new life elsewhere. While enjoying his time at the pool hall and reveling in feeling useful, a taste of wanderlust and freedom called. He quickly thought about saving his money for a fresh start when he would leave high school in two summers. For the first time, he was seeing his life with a future.

* * *

Jeannie sat at the old picnic table in her dad's backyard. While San Franscisco could be cool in the summer, it was warm enough to enjoy a book and a lemonade.

Dan was starting to be a more frequent visitor to the Stone residence and often he would find Jeannie in the yard if no one answered the door. As he ascended the steps to the yard, Dan saw his girl with her nose buried in the book.

"Hey, I thought you were out of school What's with the studying?"

"I'm not studying. I'm just reading. It's a book on post-war reconstruction of Europe."

"Sounds…like the last thing I'd expect you to read." Dan was uncertain if he wanted to go down this path.

"Oh, do you think all I read is Jacqueline Susann?" Jean smirked.

"I didn't say that. Certainly you read books that are more mentally stimulating. But why that one?"

"Well, it was written by Dad's partner's grandfather. You know Steve, right?"

"Yes, we've crossed paths at the station," Dan responded unintentionally terse.

"You two get along, don't you?"

"Of course. I have nothing bad to say about the guy. I just don't know him well. I was introduced to him when I first got my transfer over to headquarters - not much beyond that." Dan was trying to be nonchalant and was beginning to think he had overplayed his response.

Jeannie ignored him and continued reading. "Let me just wrap up this chapter. I've read the first two. The theory correlates the economic growth created by Marshall Plan to an ideological shift from communism and socialism to democracy. So far I've read about the impact of the Plan in England and France. It's not just broad changes, but a lot of it went to the local level - really, down to the grass roots. The French chapter is fascinating."

"Uh-huh. Um, are we still going to go out tonight? I thought we could go see "Rocky" - I heard it's really good."

"Just a few more minutes, okay? This is something," she continued to read. "Do you realize that this probably contributed to the notion that we'll see relative peace over there for years to come?"

"Sure," Dan nodded. "Hey, that lemonade looks good. Do you mind if I go get myself a glass?"

"Be my guest, Dan. It's in the fridge," Jeannie said as she looked up and gave Dan a wink.

Dan sighed and returned to the house.


	8. Act 3, Part 1: Winds of Change

**a/n: **Tension between Mike and Steve and a slippery slope for young Joey... Inspector Glenn Decker was in "The Commitment" (2nd season). He was played by Geoffrey Deuel, better known for his role as Billy the Kid in John Wayne's "Chisum".

* * *

**Departure**

Act 3, Part 1: Winds of Change

Mike struggles with Steve's notion of returning to Berkeley. Steve confides in an unlikely source.

* * *

On any given day, Mike was the first in the door at the Bureau of Inspectors, but every so often, Steve would get a wild hair and beat him in. That was the case the morning after he came back from Boston. While Mike told him no need to hurry, the younger man was anxious to get back to a normal schedule.

After tossing his hat on the rack, Mike found the small stack of phone messages he'd been holding for Steve. He walked out to his desk and handed them to him.

"Well, let me officially welcome you back. How are you doing this morning, Buddy boy?" he said as dug into his pocket for his donation to the coffee fund.

"Okay, I guess. Maybe a little shell shocked after all the travel yesterday, but it's good to be back. Thanks again for the ride."

With coffee in hand, Mike replied, "You should have come into the house when you dropped me off yesterday. Jeannie and Dan were there. They would have loved to have seen you."

"Oh, sorry I missed them," Steve said unconvincingly, "but I was exhausted and happy to get home and into my own bed."

Mike returned his attention to the messages in his hand. On top was one from Professor Atwater at Berkeley. His was a familiar name. Steve told Mike a year ago that the school was interested in hiring him away. He waited to see if his partner was going to enlighten him on what the good Professor wanted this year. Steve said nothing, but shot him a quick glance as he flipped through the messages. It may have been Mike's imagination, but he think Steve turned a little red for a quick second as he glanced at the name.

"Professor Atwater," Mike pressed. "Isn't that the same Professor who was pursuing you for a teaching position last year?"

"Um, yes. I guess so," was the quiet reply.

"Do you think he's pursuing you again?" Mike asked.

"Yes, he is," he said with a sigh. "He contacted me before I left for Boston."

"I see," Mike could see that Steve was feeling a little uncomfortable, but he wanted to know more. "So you've talked to him already?"

"Yes. Look, do we have to talk about this out here?" Steve said quietly as he looked around. Mike knew Lessing overhead and he was sorry about that. Not that he didn't trust Lee to keep quiet, but he did want the matter to be private for Steve.

"Okay, calm down. Let's go into my office," Mike said. Steve got up but not before he issued the older man an annoyed look.

Mike walked back into his office and found his seat. "Okay, what's going on?" he asked as he pointed to the guest chair.

"Nothing. Atwater called me about a job this fall. We met for breakfast and then I left town. That's all."

"That's all? Was this breakfast a job interview?"

"No, he was just telling me more about the job, the department and why they needed someone again after going through the drill last year."

"And why was that? Can't they keep someone happy for more than a year?"

"It wasn't that. They simply had another professor retire, that's all."

"I don't know why they keep coming after you. You're still wet behind the ears. You're only thirty years…"

"I'm thirty-one. I'll be thirty-two in September, Mike."

"Still, you're young. No offense, but what could you possibly bring to the University that a more experienced cop couldn't provide? If you were a guy with twenty or thirty years experience, I could understand that." Mike knew that sounded cold, but he could see them bringing someone in who was retirement age from the force. That would give decades of experience instead of a few years.

"No offense taken," he said rather sternly. "I bring six years of homicide experience - eight total years if you include my total time as a cop - and I'm still young enough to relate to the students. It's Berkeley and it's the seventies, Mike. You know what it's like for cops and college students now? After Kent State and all the riots and protests, they don't want someone older coming in. The students don't want to hear from 'the man'."

"No, apparently they want to hear from 'the boy'," Mike said sarcastically. At this point, he was getting a little unreasonable, but he didn't want to see the best damn cop in Homicide quit to go teach somewhere. It made no sense.

Steve sighed and then was silent. "Fine, you asked me and that's what happened." He got up and started to leave.

"Wait. Look, I'm sorry," Mike took a deep breath. "I was out of line. I just don't want you to leave, okay? Unless I see a real reason or a real opportunity for you to make a change, I can't see why you would go. Not unless…is there any other reason that you'd leave the force?"

"What do you mean?"

"A year ago, you turned down Atwater. All I'm asking is, what's changed? "

"Really, nothing, I guess. It's just food for thought," he said. A small smile passed over his face, but then left. He opened the door and returned to his desk.

This conversation wasn't over yet. Mike could feel it. There was some lingering doubt that he needed to understand.

* * *

"Hey, Joey, what are you doing here on a Monday afternoon?" Eric asked his young friend.

"School's out now, so I thought I'd come around and hang out. That's okay, isn't it?"

"Sure, it is. We just weren't expecting you."

"Do you have anything for me to do?"

"As a matter of fact, I can think of something. Remember me showing you how to use a slim jim the other day? Why don't you see if you can open my car? I have a roll of mints on the console - you can grab those for me."

Joey did as he was told and brought the mints to Eric within minutes.

"Good job, kid! You know, we got a car to repo later today. Wanna come along?"

"Sure."

Eric walked over to the desk that sat in the corner of the pool hall. He carefully opened the top drawer and pulled out a .38 special. Joey's eyes grew wide. Eric could tell that his friend was surprised by what he saw.

"Ever held one of these?"

"Are you kidding? No way!"

"Doesn't your old man own a gun?"

"Yeah, he does, but I would never touch it."

"Here - this is the safety. Keep that on for now. I'll show you how to handle a gun. If you go repo-ing with us, sometimes you get confronted. Usually it's a piece of cake. You show them your piece and people back off. It's magic."

"Have you ever had to use it?"

"Just in practice. I go down to the armory every week or so. You should come along sometime." Eric stopped for a moment as he hesitated to ask Joey a question that was long overdue. "Hey, Joey, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"You've talked about your folks. Don't they miss you when you're spending your time here?"

"Mom is moving in with her sister. It's been a long time coming. My aunt lives across town. I will be splitting my time with them, although I don't think it will matter much to my old man." Joey paused to think for a moment. "He's too drunk or to angry to bother with me."

"So you can be gone for hours at a time and he won't notice or care?"

"Yep, that's the scene. Mom, right now, is too busy trying to get settled, so she's fine with me staying with dad for a while."

"All this happened because of your brother dying in 'Nam?"

"I don't know about that. Dad's always been angry and drunk, but this just sent him over the edge."

* * *

After a morning briefing over the cold cases the Homicide team had been working, Mike sent Steve down to the DA's office for the file of one of the investigations. It was a case where an arrest was made, but the charges were dropped when one of they key witnesses left town and didn't testify.

The Atwater discussion left tense feelings between the men, and Mike felt a little diversion for Steve would be helpful. The senior partner wasn't sorry he had brought up the subject, but regretted that he pursued it the way he did.

Steve, too, felt awkward around his mentor. He knew that Mike was single-minded on where Steve should be in his career. From Mike's perspective, he was showing support and loyalty to the young man, but in reality, Steve was not able to approach his partner for a frank discussion on what was troubling him.

The DA's office was a few floors away, so Steve opted to take the elevator. As the doors opened, he looked down and didn't acknowledge anyone who was in the lift. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Fatigue clearly showed in his face.

"It can't be that bad," a young man's voice startled Steve.

Steve turned around and saw Inspector Glenn Decker grinning. "I guess not," he chuckled. "How are things over in Internal Affairs?"

"About the same," the dark haired man responded. "Always a thankless job, but I survive."

Steve checked his watch and returned his gaze downward.

Glenn was still talkative. "One of these days I'm going to see what it's like on the other side of the desk. Maybe get back on the streets with you guys."

"We'd be happy to have you." Steve remembered the first time he worked with Glenn Decker. Mike had been accused of being on the take and Decker's job was to investigate. At first, Steve thought Decker was out to get Mike, but then realized that he was only trying to get at the truth. By the end of the case, all three men had developed professional respect for each other.

"Where are you headed?" Decker asked.

"Over to the DA's office to grab a file. How about you?"

"Going to grab a sandwich. Got lunch plans?"

Steve thought for a moment and then relaxed. "As a matter of fact, I don't."

"Great. If the DA can wait, I'll take you to a place that's got a great sub."


	9. Act 3, Part 2: Winds of Change

**Departure**

Act 3, Part 2: Winds of Change

Mike still struggles as Steve comes to grips with the reason he wants to leave.

* * *

"Thank you" Steve said as he acknowledged the brunette waitress who brought the pair their sandwiches.

"What do you think? Look at how thick that is, the cheese is just oozing out and the bread is sturdy enough to hold it all together," Glenn said as he admired his sandwich. "The best in the area, and they can get you in and out within a half hour."

"Terrific. I can't believe it. I've worked at the department for eight years and I've never been here. It's so close to the station. How can that happen?" Steve wondered.

"Well for one thing, it's because you hang out at Mama's too much. Mike has probably converted your stomach into cast iron. All that grease and heavy food - it will catch up with you."

"Said the man eating a meatball sandwich," Steve countered.

"Amazing sour dough and fresh tomato sauce. It's all in the ingredients, Inspector."

Steve smiled and felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.

"So," Decker continued, "everything going okay? You looked a little down in the elevator. Caseload manageable?"

"Right now, yes, the caseload is manageable. It's something else," Steve conceded and then realized this was his opportunity to talk and clear his mind. He sighed and then continued. "For the last two years, I've been approached to teach at Berkeley. Last year, I turned them down flat, but this year, I'm considering it."

"Does that mean you would leave the department?"

"Well, it would be a full time teaching position, so yes, I would leave the department. I couldn't even swing part time with the schedule Mike and I have sometimes, so if I took the job, I'd need to resign."

"And you are seriously thinking about it?" Glenn was surprised to hear this development. From what he knew of Steve's reputation, he was the cream of the crop and many had their hopes pinned on the young man for a future leadership position.

"Yes, I am. But I want to make sure what I do is the right thing."

"Are you bored with it?"

"What, the job? No, it's definitely not boredom. The work is very interesting and it's rewarding. It's homicide, after all. But there are a lot of other things to consider."

"Such as…"

Steve wasn't sure how far he wanted to get into it with Glenn, but at this point, he continued. "One thing is that there's no opportunity to have a balanced social life. Don't get me wrong, that's not the chief reason I'm thinking of making a move, but it is something that crosses my mind more and more."

Decker understood that. At thirty-two, he was a bachelor who had his share of failed relationships.

Steve continued. "Mike has a daughter…"

"Jeannie, I remember her. She was the one who got duped into picking up that fake bribe. I felt so sorry for her. So, you and her?" Glenn wagged his eyebrows up and down.

"No, nothing like that," Steve smiled. "But you remember what happened to her when they were trying to frame Mike? In addition to the cop being careful, his family has to be too. Mike is very protective of Jeannie, for good reason. And he's tried to be very careful not to encourage her to date cops. I think I'd feel the same way about any girl with whom I'd want to have a future. I don't think I could put her through that."

"I get that, but there's got to be more to it than just the job's impact on your love life and chicks, Steve," Glenn smirked.

Steve chuckled and then paused. With quiet reflection, he continued. "Yeah, there is. You remember right around the time we first met, there was a robbery and a murder? In pursuit, I ended up shooting a teenaged boy."

"Yeah, I do remember that. You were cleared of wrongdoing fairly quickly although the parents decided to sue you for wrongful death."

"That's right. It all turned out okay, in a way. I mean, it will never be 'okay' for the parents, or for me, for that matter. But the older brother knew more than he let on and also had the gun that the boy used in his possession."

Steve stopped for a moment as it was still difficult for him to talk about, but then he continued. "I never got over shooting that kid. To this day, I ask myself if there could have been another way. With each case and with each time I have to draw my gun, I feel like I hesitate more and more. Not every time, mind you, but in certain circumstances I recall that night and the fear I have of shooting someone innocent almost overtakes me."

"I didn't know, Steve. I'm sorry."

"And I know the kid wasn't entirely innocent. He was in it up to his eyeballs, but only because of his older brother. At any rate, I'm afraid I'm beginning to second guess myself."

"Have you told Mike this?"

"Early on. He said that if I ever got used to shooting people, then he'd be worried. He thinks what I've gone through is natural. Plus he thinks I'm impervious to just about everything. I know it's strange, but I don't want to disappoint him."

"Yeah, but Steve, if you are truly losing your nerve, you are putting yourself at risk. I know Stone can be a real hard case, but he wouldn't want that."

"I know that, plus there's the simple fact that I could put him at risk, too. If something were to happen to him, I couldn't live with that." Steve put his sandwich down and looked at Glenn very seriously.

"What if a young innocent looking kid had a gun pointed at Mike? Would I be able to react quickly? In any other circumstance, I'd put my life down for him in a heartbeat, but I'm afraid of that one second where I'd look into the kid's eyes and hesitate. I'm afraid that one second would cost my partner his life."

"Heavy," Glenn commented.

"Yeah, and here I am telling the Internal Affairs guy all about it," Steve said as he gave a hapless grin.

"Hey, you know I'd be much more interested if you were on the take," Glenn feigned boredom. "No Steve, seriously, you are fine to talk to me. But I think you need to talk to Mike and also to Lenny Murchison."

Lenny Murchison served the department well as the chief psychologist. He provided good counsel to those officers who were trying to manage the aftermath of a shooting, being shot or simple nerves. He also assisted on caseloads where profiling suspects became necessary.

"Yeah, maybe. It could be that I need some counseling sessions and the matter would improve. But I'm also thinking about just moving on to something else. Teaching criminology is an option."

"You don't sound completely crazy about the idea."

"I have to admit, there's something about it that's lacking. There are some good aspects to it. I loved college and working with students would be great. There's also some appeal in the academic research of criminology I'd get to do. But I don't see it as the rest of my career either. It takes me too far away from what I've been doing."

"So what do you want to do?"

"That's the big question I've been thinking about, Glenn. What may be my undoing on the force may also be my motivation for doing something else."

"Go on."

"While a split second innocent look occasionally gets to me, what gets me even more are the families of the victims. Talk about innocent - and all they want is justice for their family member. We had one case in particular where a child was killed. The mother was devastated, and I couldn't get the anguish out of my head. I couldn't bring back the kid, but I could bring back the reason it happened. Perhaps that gave her some peace."

"And so what is this telling you that you should do?"

"I'm starting to this about the idea of going to law school and eventually work in the DA's office. If I do my current job right, I find out why murders happen. To take it a step further, I could build the case strong enough to bring justice and perhaps peace of mind to those same families."

"Now there's something. If you've got the ability to do that - and you do seem to be a sharp guy, that'd be fantastic. Maybe you could teach part-time and then go to law school all at Berkeley."

"That's what has been in the back of my mind. I could get a decent discount on tuition that way." Steve looked around and felt a sense of relief that he finally verbalized what he'd been thinking. "I know I'm going to disappoint those that have supported me these last few years. I struggle with that."

"Are you primarily talking about Mike?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"He'd be proud of you, you know that."

"We work well together and we've become very close friends. I'd miss that and so would he."

"Are you kidding? Who knows? You could take the case once he had an arrest and then carry it out from there. You'd still work with him, but just in a different capacity."

"I know the possibility of that would be remote. It would take me a few years of schooling and experience to get to that point. By then, Mike could be retired. No, for me to make this change, I know what I'd be giving up."

"I'll give you one thing, you wouldn't get shot at if you worked for the DA. Unless, of course, Mike comes after you for quitting," Glenn cracked.

"Yeah, that's another thing…" Steve conceded as he thought of his time at St. John's Hospital.

"What you need to do, my friend, is talk to people. Talk to your contacts at the university. Talk to Mike and Lenny. Also, talk to Arnie over at the DA's office. Tell him what you are interested in doing and see if he has any ideas. Whatever you do, put your options on the table and make the choice based on what's best for Steve Keller - and not anyone else."

"You're right, thanks," Steve said as he picked up the check. "On me. Say, how is it they hire such smart guys for Internal Affairs anyway?"

"Well, while I didn't go to Berkeley, I did go to USC. It's all that edu-ma-cation, I suppose."

* * *

Steve returned with a single file in his hand to the Homicide offices nearly an hour and a half after he left.

"Where have you been?" Mike said coolly from his desk. "I thought I would have to put an APB out on you."

"Got to talking with Arnie for a bit. Also had lunch with one of the guys over in IA. You remember Glenn Decker?"

"Of course I remember Decker," Mike had moved to his door and was completely aggravated with his partner. "So that's what took you well over an hour?"

"Yeah," Steve replied calmly. "I'm sorry I'm late."

The men stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Lessing looked over at Tanner and could sense an eruption building from the older detective. "Perhaps we should leave," he mumbled as Tanner smirked.

Mike silently shifted his glare from Steve to Lee and then turned to answer the phone on his desk.

"Thank you," Steve mouthed to Lee.

"Stone."

Mike listened to the caller and began writing notes. "Okay, we'll be right down." He hung up the phone, grabbed his coat and hat and called over to his partner.

"There's been possible homicide in the Mission. C'mon, let's go."


	10. Act 4, Part 1: Mission Murder

**Departure**

Act 4, Part 1: Mission Murder

An unpleasant discovery in a tough section of town.

* * *

_In my lifetime, the Mission has been one of the toughest areas in town. It's got more than its share of clubs, bars, pool halls, and pawn shops and that, coupled with the bad economy, brings gambling, solicitation, robbery and sometimes murder. Unfortunately, many of the calls Steve and I take are over in this district and often those murders are the hardest to solve. _

_The majority of murder victims know their killer. Usually, it's a domestic issue or some sort of dispute. In an area that lends itself to vices, the crimes are transaction related: a john kills a prostitute; a gambler is killed and robbed of his winnings; or a drug deal goes bad. It's nearly random; twenty-four hours earlier and I'll take bets that very few of these people had even met their killers. _

_It was afternoon as Steve and I drove over to an alley behind the Lilac Hotel. The hotel was the residence of some of the less than stellar citizens of the area. I filled Steve in on the phone call as he drove. A man in his mid to late twenties was found stabbed to death in a dumpster behind the hotel. Beyond that, I didn't know much. Steve and I spoke very little about anything else._

_I still regretted my conversation with Steve that morning after giving him Atwater's message. He also didn't deserve me getting on to him when he returned from the DA's office. He's a grown man but all too often, I treat him like the rookie he used to be. I would never talk to the other men the way that I do Steve. But in my defense, I also haven't taken the other men under my wing like I did Steve. Still, while I would never admit it out loud, I can be overbearing and that was getting on his nerves. I needed to say something._

* * *

"Why don't you pull over near the entrance to the alley?" Mike suggested.

"Sure," Steve replied as he dutifully aligned the car to the curb.

"Look, before we go see what's going on, Steve, I need to apologize. I've been out of line today."

Steve looked over and responded quietly. "No worries, Mike. I've been a little out of sorts myself. Probably should have taken an extra day off after the trip back."

"You've been fine. I just need to recognize that you are going to have opportunities presented to you that are beyond anything involving me."

Steve shook his head."I should be talking to you about things like this when they come up. I'm sorry that I didn't."

Mike immediately defended his partner. "Well, how could you? You were out of town for most of the time, and your mind was elsewhere."

"Then we're okay?" Steve smiled slightly as he asked hopefully.

"Of course." Mike responded. Steve wanted to say more, but knew they needed to refocus on the crime scene.

* * *

Mike and Steve walked the short way down the alley to meet the forensic investigator and two patrolmen. A coroner's wagon was also on the scene. They watched as a body was placed on the stretcher near a dumpster.

Patrolman Adams greeted the detectives. "Marty, what have you got?" Mike asked.

"One of the workers at the Lilac was dumping trash and found the body. Damn lucky that the trash truck didn't haul the corpse away. They got the body out the dumpster thinking the guy might still be alive, but he was clearly dead. May have been there from overnight."

Patrolman Adams' partner, Kent Hartman continued. "Accordingly to his license, his name is Henry Hammer, age twenty-seven from the area. We ran a check on him and he goes by the nickname of Buddy. He has a short record mostly as a two bit hood. The last known address is an apartment that he shared with his brother, Eric. He also worked at a pool hall his uncle owned just a few blocks away on Walnut."

"How did he die?" Steve asked.

Adams nodded towards the body as it was covered and strapped to the stretcher. "Looks like a knife wound to the gut. Given the amount of blood, whoever killed him hit an artery."

"What did he have on him?"

"Just a wallet. No money."

"Gun?"

"Are you kidding? No, if the guy was armed, whoever killed him took care of that."

"Wonder what kind of trouble he was into?" Mike asked aloud.

"In this area, it could be anything." Hartman answered.

Steve peered into the dumpster but backed off. The stench was horrific; the byproduct of several days of trash from the hotel residents mixed with eighty degree heat. "No blood on the outside of the dumpster and nothing on the ground. Perhaps he wasn't stabbed here, but transported and dumped?" Steve suggested as he turned his head and took in a lungful of fresh air.

"Good point," Mike agreed. "I wonder if we can get some prints from the dumpster lid."

"Asphalt alley, no footprints or tire tracks here," Steve observed.

"What's this?" Mike queried as he continued to look inside the dumpster.

"What do you see?" Steve peered back into the dumpster.

"There…it's a small package, maybe an envelope. It's not dirty like everything else. Can you reach it?"

"No." Steve leaned over but the object of Mike's curiosity was inches away. He knew what was coming.

"You'll need to climb in," Mike said, oblivious to the look his partner was giving him. "Try not to touch the side of the dumpster."

Steve sighed."There's got to be another way." He was confounded when he couldn't find it and carefully pulled himself up and over the side. He suppressed the urge to gag and instead held his breath. The sound of a squishy ooze under his shoes further exasperated the young man.

"Here, use this," Mike ordered as he handed his partner a handkerchief. Steve started to cover his mouth with the cloth, when Mike stopped him."Not for you…use it to pick up the package."

Steve issued a slight pout and then quickly retrieved the package. He handed everything to his partner and then asked with faux sincerity, "Anything else while I'm in here?" He didn't want to think about what was happening to the cuffs of his slacks.

Mike took a long minute to look around. "No, everything else looks like it's been there a while." He turned in order to suppress a slight grin."Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Steve said dryly as he hoisted himself back over the side of the dumpster. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but we'll find out. Let's get it to the lab and have them check it for prints, then they can open it." Mike called over to the forensic investigator. "Charlie, take this, dust it and then check the contents. Let me know what you find."

* * *

Eric was behind the counter at the pool hall when Joey walked in.

"Hey, kid." The young man greeted the boy. "Here kind of early, huh?"

"Yeah, not much to do at home. Can I help with something, Eric?"

"Sure, Joey. Why don't you go back and get a broom and mop? The floor could use a good cleaning. Buddy didn't come home last night. He probably got lucky. I haven't seen him yet, but I knew he had things to do today. When he comes in, he may have something else for you."

After a few minutes, two uniformed police officers walked into the building. Eric became nervous at the sight and hoped that Joey would stay in the backroom.

"Are you Eric Hammer?" the officer asked.

"Yes, how can I help you?" Eric fought the urge to run.

"I am sorry to say that we found your brother, Henry, this morning over by the Lilac Hotel. He was found dead in the alley. We have investigators there now. I am very sorry."

Eric was stunned. Tears welled in his eyes. "Not Buddy…"

The officer continued."I understand you have an uncle, a James Hammer. Are you two the only relatives?"

"Yes," Eric looked lost.

"I understand James Hammer owns this place. Is your uncle here now?"

"No, sir. He doesn't come here often because Buddy runs the place. Uncle Jimmy is probably home."

"Mr. Hammer, I am sure this has been a shock to you. A couple of detectives will be coming by to talk to you some more, but for now, please accept our condolences. I need to tell you that your brother is being taken to the morgue. You or your uncle should go down there to identify him."

The officers left. Eric stood with his hands on the counter looking down. Tears fell."I can't believe it," he whispered. "Not my brother."

Joey leaned against the doorway which led to the back room. Neither police officer saw him.

"I'm so sorry, Eric."


	11. Act 4, Part 2: Mission Murder

**a/n** Irene was a character in later seasons of SOSF - she dated Mike in a couple of episodes.

* * *

**Departure**

Act 4, Part 2: Mission Murder

The investigation begins. Eric and Joey are shocked and saddened.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Mike inquired as Steve drove a different direction than he anticipated.

"Back to my place. I'm changing clothes. I've got Lord-knows-what on the bottom of my trousers and caked on my shoes. I can still smell it."

"Yeah, I can, too. You are pretty rancid there, Buddy boy."

"Ranc-?" the younger man couldn't finish the word. "Are you kidding me? I should make you pay the cleaning bill." Steve shot a quick glance at his partner. "And my shoes are probably ruined. It's not like I run around in cheap sneakers, you know."

Mike grinned but then became somber. "Let's not forget that someone died in that trash bin. Of all the places to be found dead - in the midst of debris and garbage. It's enough to make my stomach turn."

Steve followed his partner's lead and thought seriously of the case. "What are you thinking, Mike? Any hunches?"

"Well, let's see what we have. One, the guy worked in a pool hall a few blocks away. That's not like he was a schoolteacher at the local grammar school. Two, he had a few arrests, plus a stint behind bars. His record was theft and minor possession charges, so perhaps he was still involved with that. Old habits die hard. If I had a hunch, it would be that whoever killed him had some sort of dealing with him that went sour."

"Robbery?"

"That would depend on what's in that package. If it's got value and we link it to Hammer, then I'd say 'no'. At least robbery wouldn't be the primary motive." Mike thought for a moment. "It sounds like he was close to his brother. After we talk to him, we should be able to get a better understanding of who Henry Hammer was. They called him 'Buddy', if I remember Marty right."

"Yeah, that's what he said. No witnesses at this point. We don't even have a handle on when he died," Steve responded.

"No, but we've got plenty of forensic evidence. The M.E. can tell us how he died and the time of death. And, we've got the package and maybe some prints from the lid of the dumpster."

Steve made the turn onto Union and found a spot in front of his apartment building. "Wanna come in?"

"No, you won't be long. Go ahead and get changed. Then we'll head over to the lab and see what we can find. After that, we'll go see if we can talk to Buddy's brother."

* * *

"Got anything?" Mike asked as he greeted long-time lab technician Charlie Johnson.

"And 'hello' to you, too, Lieutenant," came the response from the dark haired man in a white lab coat.

Steve smirked while Johnson continued to focus his attention to the glass slides in his microscope.

"C'mon, Charlie. The small package that was retrieved near the corpse in the Mission this afternoon…did you get the prints and find out what the contents were?"

"Oh, you mean the package that came in just twenty minutes ago from Officer Adams. Sure, I have lifted a set of prints and then I examined the contents. Plus I managed to prepare a three course meal for our dinner."

Mike looked at his partner who was trying not to laugh. "Very funny, Charlie. What do you have?"

"Okay, I did get a good set of prints from the package before I opened it. The contents of the package was a few grams of acid."

"Acid?" Mike inquired.

"LSD?" Steve asked.

"Got it in one, Steve," Charlie replied. "About 5 grams, give or take. The body is with the medical examiner down at the morgue. We'll get the preliminary autopsy results plus we'll get a set of prints to see if we can get a match to the package.

"You do good work, Charlie. That and that sunny personality of yours are going to take you a long way," Mike chided.

"Steve, you should get some kind of medal of honor for working with this guy for as long as you have."

Steve's mouth tightened at the comment, but then he quickly rebounded. "Yeah, that or I should be committed."

"Now, that's not kind, Steve," Mike feigned hurt feelings. "Charlie, call me with the results, okay?"

"You got it, Lieutenant."

* * *

"Pool hall or apartment?" Mike asked his partner as they walked out to the brown Ford Galaxy.

"What?"

"Do you think the brother will be at the pool hall or the apartment?"

"If I had a brother who just died, I wouldn't be at a pool hall. Let's try the apartment."

"Okay, the apartment is in the Potrero area."

"Your old stomping ground."

"Yes, and I know where this address is. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

With Steve driving, it took twelve minutes when they pulled into the lot of an older, but ostensibly well maintained apartment building. The two men walked up two flights of stairs, found apartment 3C and knocked. Eric opened the door a crack.

"Are you Eric Hammer?" Mike asked as he held out his badge. "Police."

"Yes, sir. I've been expecting you. Come on in." Eric released the chain on the lock and the two detectives entered the room.

Steve observed that the apartment was plain and sparse. After introductions, Eric led the men to a sofa and asked them to sit down.

"He was my older brother. We lived here and we worked together. I can't believe I'm never going to see him again."

"Yes," Mike replied, "please accept our condolences." Mike looked over to his partner for a second. Steve continued the conversation.

"Eric, do you have any thoughts or ideas who would have done this to your brother?"

Eric shook his head. "We're not choir boys, detective. But still in all, Buddy didn't have any real enemies. He certainly had no one who wanted to see him dead."

Steve continued. "We know that Buddy did some time at County and was downstate at a minimum security facility for a short stint. Could it be someone from his past?"

"I don't know. Buddy was trying to live on the straight and narrow," Eric lied. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"What about the pool hall? What kind of business do you do there? Any customers that might be unhappy?"

"Nah. It's our uncle's pool hall and most of the people that come there are just kids who hang out," Eric responded. "It's not a huge business, but it keeps us occupied."

"Look, I need to ask something," Steve interjected. "There were some narcotics found near Buddy's body. Any idea what that's about? Did he use drugs?"

Eric tried to sound credible. "Detective, I said that we aren't choir boys. Yes, Buddy was known to smoke a joint occasionally. But as far as narcotics goes, that definitely wasn't his bag, man."

"So there's nothing else you can think of? How about girlfriends?" Mike asked.

"He doesn't have a steady girlfriend. I can't think of anything else."

Both Mike and Steve rose at the same time. Mike pulled out a business card and said, "Eric, if you do remember something or hear anything that might be of interest, call me or Inspector Keller."

* * *

The detectives departed. "What do you think?" Mike asked.

"I dunno," Steve replied. "For a guy that lives and works with the victim, he didn't appear to know anything."

"I'm not sure I bought the answer on the drug question, either." Mike looked at his watch. "Well, Steve, it's getting late. I think we should call it a day and start fresh in the morning."

"What, you? Are you not well?" Steve was surprised as Mike grinned. "This is like taking a half day off. What's going on?"

"First, it's nearly six and it's been a long day. And second, well, I'm escorting Irene to an event she's involved with down by the wharf tonight. We have to be there before eight."

"Ahh…you have a date with your on again, off again girlfriend. Well, good for you. Actually, I was planning a late dinner with Carolyn myself."

"If I know you, there'll be more than just dinner tonight."

"Well," Steve replied slyly, "I haven't seen Carolyn since I got back…"

"I don't want to hear it. Just go out and have fun, but make sure that you are at the station bright and early tomorrow. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Steve smirked. "Hey, say 'hello' to Irene for me. You know, if she were twenty five years younger, I'd give you a run for your money."

"She's fond of you, too. I think she wants to adopt you," Mike replied.

"Aw, geez, she is so sweet. I'll bet she'd be a great mom," Steve gushed deliberately.

Mike ignored the younger man, "Actually, she wants all of us to get together soon for dinner."

"Oh, you mean a double date type thing?"

"Triple date. She wants to include Jeannie and Dan, too."


	12. Act 4, Part 3: Mission Murder

**Departure**

Act 4, Part 3: Mission Murder

Eric vows to find his brother's killer. Jeannie vows to learn more about Steve's family's past. Steve gets an interview.

* * *

_I__ didn't think mentioning Irene's idea of Jeannie and Dan joining the four of us for dinner would be a problem, but I was surprised as I read the expression on Steve's face: he looked as if he was going to be ill. _

_I couldn't figure it out. Steve knew some of the young men Jeannie dated before and it didn't seem to faze him. But with Dan it was different. Steve was in 'big brother' mode, but I'm not sure if it was because this was Jeannie's first real post-collegiate romance or if it really bothered him that Dan was a cop. I asked him what was wrong and he, of course, feigned innocence, gave his patented 'nothing - I'm fine' answer and quickly found something new to talk about._

_By the time Steve dropped me off at the house, the subject was all but forgotten and he was clearly looking forward to his evening activities. We quickly said our good-byes and I climbed the far too many steps to the front door. _

_Jeannie greeted me from the sofa as I entered my house.. Her nose was buried in a book and she barely looked up as she spoke. "Mike, I've been reading Professor McGivern's book on the reconstruction of Europe." For a quick second, I forgot who Professor McGivern was, but then she went on about how brilliant Steve's grandfather must have been and it registered. _

_Jeannie had already seen the dedication to Steve at the beginning of the book. She told me that she also saw my partner listed again under the acknowledgements section, giving him credit for his contribution to the analysis on France. _

"_I was showing this to Dan today," she continued. The moment she said that I thought that was probably the last thing Dan needed to hear. He's nervous enough around me and I've noticed he's also a little distant to Steve, so I could imagine Jeannie's enthusiastic discussion about another young man's accomplishments did not go over well with Dan. _

* * *

Two Days Later…

Eric unlocked the door of his uncle's pool hall. It was the first time it was open since the death of his brother. The young man and his uncle buried their loved one earlier that morning and Eric wanted to get away from the apartment the two had shared. In the back of his mind, he hoped Joey would appear. While he and Buddy intended to use the boy only to help with their crimes, they couldn't help but have a bit of sympathy for the lonely young teenager. He was a decent good-hearted kid who clearly wasn't getting his fair shake in life.

While Eric was mum to the police, he found notes that his brother left on their desk at the apartment. It was clear that he had a late night drop-off of a small bag of LSD in the Mission area followed by a midnight meeting arranged with his supplier. Eric wondered if the delivery ever occurred if the small bag of narcotics was found by the detectives.

* * *

In the meantime, Mike and Steve continued to investigate Henry "Buddy" Hammer's murder. Hammer died from a severed aorta which resulted from a stab wound slightly above his abdomen. He was likely dead before he hit the ground. The Medical Examiner placed the time of death to just before midnight.

Charlie Johnson confirmed that the envelope containing LSD had Buddy's prints on them. The operating theory was that the drugs fell from Buddy's jacket as he'd been thrown into the dumpster.

There were easily a dozen fresh prints on the dumpster lid. Charlie meticulously recorded each print and sent the samples to Records for analysis. It would take an enormous amount of luck for any of those samples to match, but it was something that needed to be done.

While Steve had suggested that Buddy may have been killed elsewhere due to the lack of blood in the alley or around the dumpster, the fact that Buddy was killed instantly meant that not much of the blood had been pumped out. Instead, the blood pooled internally leaving a gory mess when the ME began the autopsy.

Having interviewed Eric, the neighbors and potential witnesses around the Lilac Hotel, the detectives had come up empty and were plenty frustrated.

* * *

Back at Headquarters, Mike walked to the doorway of this office and leaned against its frame. He let out a deep sigh. "I think it's time we go back and visit Eric," the senior partner announced. "He knows something and he's not telling."

"Maybe we should put a tail on him for a couple of days," Steve suggested.

"What are you thinking about, Buddy boy?" Mike asked as he walked towards Steve's desk and sat in the guest chair.

Steve leaned back in his chair. "We know the LSD was linked to Henry Hammer and it was in an envelope. Either he was the receiver or the deliverer. Whichever way, I'm betting you that there's a supplier involved and his brother knows about it. If we have someone follow him, we have a better chance of finding out who the Hammer brothers ran around with."

"We got nothing else, so let's go with it. We'll give it forty eight hours and see what we come up with. Let's take the first shift and then rotate with Tanner and Lessing."

Before Steve could say anything, he phone rang.

"Keller."

Mike remained in the chair and could hear a man's voice on the other end. After realizing the call was personal, he stood up to give Steve some privacy. Steve was listening intently and grabbed a pen to scribble down some notes.

Mike, back in his office, couldn't help be look up occasionally to see and hear what was going on. The conversation lasted no more than five minutes.

"Okay, that sounds fine," the young detective responded. "Friday afternoon at 3pm works for me. Over at Boalt, sure. Room 402. Yes, sir. Looking forward to it. Thank you."

Steve hung up the phone and placed the now-folded paper into his pocket. He stared ahead for a moment, then closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

_A panel interview with the Law Enforcement professors at Berkeley_,Steve thought to himself. _It didn't get this far last year. _Steve quickly imagined arriving at his alma mater and walking through the campus to the interview. The prospect of teaching there was exciting and rightly so. The school was one of the most well regarded in the state. To be an associate professor at this stage, would be an accomplishment.

Steve could feel someone staring at him. He turned to his left. _Mike_. The older man's blue eyes pierced through him and now Steve felt guilt.

The young man slowly got up from his chair and walked the few steps to Mike's office.

"Atwater?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Steve replied quietly. "I have an interview on Friday."

"Okay," Mike nodded. "Well..," he feigned good humor. "Good luck. Don't be nervous or anything. And if you want to talk beforehand, that's okay by me."

Steve gave a small smile. "Sure. We'll talk." He hesitated as he turned away. "Mike, this isn't a done deal. I just want to hear what they have to say."

"I know. Hey, let's head over to Hammer's pool hall and see what we can find out," Mike ordered with a dash of false bravado as he rose, grabbed his hat and slapped the young man on the shoulder.

_If only I could understand what's changed, Steve, I could handle this better._


	13. Act 4, Part 4: Mission Murder

**Departure**

Act 4, Part 4: Mission Murder

The detectives suspect that Eric knows more than he lets on. Steve demonstrates his talent with trivia.

* * *

With the Berkeley phone call behind them, Mike and Steve refocused on the Hammer homicide. The detectives decided to pay a visit with Eric Hammer at the pool hall to see if he had any more ideas about what happened to his brother. Both men doubted the exercise would be productive as they had a gut feeling the victim's younger sibling was hiding something.

The bell on the front door of the pool hall rang as the two detectives entered. Eric looked up and nodded a hello.

"Detectives, have you found out anything?" Eric asked anxiously.

"Not as much as we'd like," Mike replied. "That's what brings us back here. We thought now that the initial shock had passed, perhaps something might have triggered a thought on who would have your brother dead."

"No - I've wracked my brain, Lieutenant. I can't come up with anything."

A slight motion to his left caught Steve's eye. The curtain which hung across the door to the supply room moved. "Who else is here, Eric?" Steve asked.

Mike was surprised at the question since he did not see the curtain move.

Eric hesitated for a quick second and then confessed, "There's a young kid who helps around. He keeps the floors and toilet clean. He's in the back room."

"Can you call him out?" Steve pressed.

"Sure," came the reply. Eric raised his voice to get Joey's attention. "Hey, kid. Can you come out here? The cops want to meet you."

Joey peeked through the curtain slowly. Both Mike and Steve were surprised to see such a diminutive youth before them.

"Hello, son," came the greeting from Mike. "What's your name?"

"Joey. Joey Morgan."

"Well, it's good to meet you, Joey Morgan. Just how old are you?"

"Fifteen. Almost sixteen."

Mike looked at Steve and commented, "They look younger all the time, don't they, Steve?"

Steve's eyes locked with the youth and the young detective felt a chill. "Yes, they do," he said quietly.

"Tell me son, did you know Buddy Hammer well?" Mike asked.

"No, sir. I just come in to sweep the floors and run errands for the pool hall."

A quick frown passed over Eric's face. Steve noted the change.

"What kind of errands?" Steve asked.

Realizing that he misspoke, Joey changed his tune. "Sometimes, I go to the store and buy supplies. Sometimes, I go to the post office for them."

Steve squinted and then nodded. "Anything else?"

"No sir," the boy answered with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt Buddy?" Mike asked as he redirected the questions to the murder.

"No, honest sir, I don't." The answer came out in a hurry.

"Okay, son. If you think of anything, you make sure you call us, you hear?" Mike used his best fatherly tone.

The boy nodded. "May I go back to the store room now?"

"Sure, son. Go ahead," Mike replied.

After the boy left the room, Mike continued. "The envelope we found at the dumpster had your brother's fingerprints on them. Can you tell us about why that would be?"

"My brother was the victim here, Lieutenant. Why do I get the feeling that you are going after him?"

Steve interjected. "We're not going after your brother, Eric. But if your brother was into drugs, knowing with whom he associated may lead us to who killed him. That's what you want and that's what we want, too."

"Look, Buddy had friends and acquaintances that I didn't know. He's older than I am and I never had a right to pry. Okay? I don't know anything."

"All right, Eric, we get the picture," Mike responded. "Again, if something comes up, you have my card."

Eric took a deep breath before he replied. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Mike and Steve left the hall and returned to the car.

"If that kid's on the level, I'll eat my hat," Mike remarked. "I don't buy into the idea that he doesn't know anything. He reacted too strongly when we pressed him about his brother."

"He protested the question too hard," Steve agreed.

"Let's drive around the block - maybe go through the back alley and see what's there."

Steve did as told and parked the car nearly a block away, but still with in view of the front of the pool hall. He looked at his watch. "How long are you planning for us to stay here?"

"Why, got a date or something?"

"No…I'm starving. If there's a sandwich place nearby, I'll run in and get us lunch."

"You know, I'm starting to fade a bit myself. I could use something to eat, too. There's a deli a half block up on the right."

"So long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being."

"What?"

"Kafka."

"Ah…warming up for your return to academia, I see."

Steve allowed a slight smirk. "Ham, roast beef, or what?"

"Surprise me. But no eggplant - I want meat. And make that red meat."

Steve returned ten minutes later with two Reubens, chips and two sodas.

As he settled back in the driver's seat, Steve removed the tab from the soda can and unwrapped his sandwich. "Do you know the origins of the Reuben sandwich?"

"Absolutely no clue," Mike responded as he took a bite, "but I bet you do."

"It was named after a Russian immigrant, Reuben Kulakofsky. He would make it for his buddies on poker night back in the twenties. They lived in Omaha. Now, one of the poker buddies had a hotel and restaurant there. As it turns out, the poker buddy told his chef about the sandwich. Then, one of chef's staff submitted the recipe to some sort of magazine contest. The recipe won and the Reuben sandwich became famous."

"Why do you know this?"

"I read."

"That didn't come out of your typical text book."

"No, it was a travel magazine that had an article on Omaha."

"Really," Mike replied with abating interest.

"I said 'I read'. I didn't say I was always discriminating in my selections."

"Ah. You know, Steve, if and when you do leave the police department, my intelligence quotient will go down precipitously."

Steve smiled and nodded. "Indeed. Hey, did you use the word 'precipitously' before you met me?"

"Definitely not." Mike chuckled.

The pair finished their sandwiches in companionable silence and watched the entrance to the pool hall.

After several minutes, Mike once again brought up Irene's idea for the dinner party. Apparently the planning was farther along than Mike had elaborated on earlier, but he had been reluctant to push the invitation. Still, the senior detective finally asked, "Are you and Carolyn busy on Saturday?"

"We were going out, but we didn't have anything really planned. I'm sure Carolyn would love to come over. She's met you only in passing, but she hasn't met Jeannie or Irene."

"Or Dan."

"Well, him too," Steve added grudgingly.

"You have your interview Friday afternoon. Perhaps you can tell us how it went on Saturday."

"Do Jeannie and Irene know about this?"

"Yes, they do. They are both quite happy for this opportunity for you, especially Jeannie. She's all about the college life still."

"Well, it would be a good opportunity, that's no doubt," Steve agreed. "What's Irene making, anyway?"

"Pot roast, with all sorts of sides. And it's not just Irene. Jeannie is also helping out and you know how good her cooking is."

"That's the truth. Okay, count us in - and let us know what we can bring."

At that moment, Eric left the pool hall and got into his car. "What do we have here?" Mike asked aloud.

Steve noticed the movement and leaned forward in his seat to observe.

"Okay Steve, we have a read on his car and plates. Now let's see where he's going. Make sure you stay back. I don't want to scare him off."


	14. Act 4, Part 5: Mission Murder

**Departure**

Act 4, Part 5: Mission Murder

A street contact provides the detectives with answers.

* * *

Steve kept at least a block back from the black '68 Mustang as he drove the short distance to the affluent Nob Hill area. Eric Hammer pulled into a large private garage off of Taylor Street which was adjacent to an architecturally pleasing five floor condominium building. Mike scribbled down the address of the building as Steve pulled over to the side of the street.

"Well, this is a far cry from his apartment and the pool hall," Mike commented.

"Wonder who lives there," Steve pondered. "There's got to be 25 units in that building."

"Get Lessing on it when we get back to the station. It may be no one more than a girlfriend he's seeing, but it could also be just the connection we need."

"If he's visiting a girlfriend who lives here, I'd say she's slumming. You want to wait out here for a bit?" Steve asked his partner.

"No. What I do want to do next is see Rocco Gillespie."

"Old Rocco, huh? He's one of your informers from the Mission area."

"Yes and not too far from that pool hall either. I want to know who the Hammer brothers ran around with. I just have a feeling that there's more trouble here than we realize."

The detectives returned to the Mission district. "Turn here," Mike instructed as he pointed to Market Street. "If I know Rocco, he'll be along here somewhere."

Steve smiled. Mike had taken him to see Rocco a few times over the last few years. The sixty-five year old man hung around street corners, normally with a racing forum under his arm. Being the prototypical snitch, Rocco said all the lines anyone would expect from a guy starring in a B-grade film noir. For the extra five bucks he'd squeeze out of Mike, Rocco provided quite a show. One moment he was fluid with answers and then suddenly, he developed amnesia. Mike would wave the extra bill under his nose and the old man would start talking again.

"There he is over there on the corner by the strip joint," Mike called out. "He's got his racing forum - probably out there making book. Heh-heh. Pull over and let's see what Rocco has to say."

Steve remained amused. Mike loved hitting the streets and Steve enjoyed seeing his partner's enthusiasm.

"Rocco, what do you know/" Mike greeted the older white-haired man as he closed the car door.

"My dear Lieutenant, greetings to you and your young friend there."

Steve nodded a hello as he rounded the front of the car.

"Rocco, we need information on a couple of brothers - Henry "Buddy" Hammer and Eric Hammer. They run a pool hall over on Walnut."

"Hammer, Hammer…" Rocco considered. "Yeah, I know of them. One just got plugged the other day. What of it?"

"What have they been involved in?" Steve asked.

"Let's see…let me think." Rocco glanced up as if the answer were written on a marquee.

Mike and Steve sighed.

"It's on the tip of my tongue. I just can't seem to come up with it."

"Got any cash on you?" Mike asked Steve.

"Wha-?" Steve started to question but knew it was a losing proposition. He pulled the bi-fold wallet out of his coat pocket, yanked out a twenty and gave it to Rocco.

"Oh yes, I remember now…the Hammer brothers. Small time hoods and dealers, but with big time connections."

"Like who, Rocco?" Mike asked.

"Their uncle."

"A name, Rocco, I need a name." Mike pressed.

Rocco scratched his head and started to stall, but Steve quickly intervened. "For twenty bucks, you can give us a name."

Rocco frowned. "Sam Magnusson."

"Sam Magnusson," Mike repeated. "Sam Magnusson. I know that name. Why do I know that name?" he asked himself.

"Just got out of Quentin after ten years," Rocco offered.

"Of course, I never would have made the connection."

"Sam's sister is the Hammer boys' mother," Rocco assisted.

"Yes, makes sense," Mike mused for a moment and then looked at his partner. "Yeah, before your time, Buddy boy. Sam Magnusson was a part of the Eriksson gang back in the day. That was a tough group."

"Were they part of the Nordic Mob?" Steve asked with a smirk.

"Don't laugh - they were a small group, but they were as tough as the Vikings of old. There were turf wars between them and other immigrant groups throughout the years," Mike recalled.

"What did they do that was illegal?"

"Booze running, extortion, prostitution, anything to make a buck."

"Okay, so Sam Magnusson is out of the pen. Now what is he doing?" Steve looked at Rocco for more info.

"I can't say as I know for certain." Rocco replied coyly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Steve mumbled as he put a ten dollar bill in Rocco's hand.

"Ten bucks? That's it?"

"Fine," Steve snapped another ten in his hand. "Okay, now talk."

"Mike, you need to train your boy to have more patience and manners. I think it's going to take another ten for me to remember anything more."

Mike reached in his pocket and calmly pulled out another ten and handed it to the snitch. "Okay, Rocco, now it's your turn. Talk."

"Sure, Lieutenant. He's back with Micky Olsson. That's with two s's," he added as he looked at Steve taking notes. Steve nodded.

"Do you know who Micky Olsson is?" the younger partner asked his senior.

"I sure do. Olsson's a younger guy - he's somehow related to Ericsson and he's been involved in a lot lately. At least that's what I hear from Vice. Very slippery, though. They haven't been able to nail him."

"Only for you, my dear Lieutenant, will I tell you this. Magnusson was grooming his nephews to be a part of the Olsson organization. That's when Buddy was snuffed."

"Rocco, I'm honored. Any idea who if it was from within Olsson's organization or was it someone on the outside?"

"Olsson is trying to expand his territory, shall we say. He'd been pressing the brothers to do more in their area - drugs in particular. I think they did got on someone else's turf and stepped on some toes."

"Any idea who that someone else is, Rocco?" Steve asked reluctantly.

Rocco grinned. "Right now, I'm afraid I don't know."

Mike nudged Steve. "Okay, fine," the younger detective whispered and he snapped out his final twenty. "All gone, so you better make this good, Rocco."

"I don't think they are Chinese, but a group of thugs recently relocated near Chinatown. They came here by way of LA. Nasty SOB's."

"Do you have a gang name?"

"The Red Dragons," Rocco replied.

Mike's expression became grim. "The Red Dragons…yeah, I've heard of them. We had an alert from the PD down in LA. If the Hammer brothers, Olsson, Eriksson and that group are playing against that gang, this area is going to become a battleground."


	15. Act 5, Part 1: The One You're With

**a/n:** This chapter is quite a bit longer than the others, but gets to a key point in Steve's backstory and also hopefully builds on the friendship between the two partners.

As we've just commemorated the 70th anniversary of Pearl Harbor, Midway and Anne Frank's diary this past year, plus observed D-Day this month, I thought it might be interesting to weave some historical fiction into Steve's background. It does factor into his 'departure'. Hope you enjoy. (Mike's periodic narration is in italics.)

* * *

**Departure**

Act 5, Part 1: The One You're With

During their off hours, Mike and Irene have a dinner party to get to know Carolyn and Dan better. Dan challenges Steve.

* * *

_At least we had some direction. Thanks to Rocco, we knew the brothers were tied to something more organized and that Hammer's murder was only a part of a larger situation. We also knew that another organization moved in from LA and there would likely be a turf battle soon._

_I had asked Steve to have Lessing check out the condo Eric visited and obtain a list of tenants. The fact that Sam Magnusson was one of the lessees came as no surprise. I ordered extra cruisers in the Mission area and also had more of my team doing surveillance. While I felt like we were on to something, we weren't getting the hard evidence needed to make an arrest for Hammer's killing._

_Around 2pm on Friday, Steve left for the afternoon. He gave himself plenty of time to get to Berkeley. We talked little about the interview beforehand. He said it would be with a panel of three professors from the Criminology department, which was an offshoot of the law school. He seemed somewhat preoccupied the closer 2 o'clock came. At that time, he said he was 'heading out' and that he'd tell me all about it at Irene's dinner party the next day._

_Irene's dinner party…that was to be another matter. In the back of my mind, I thought that little get-together might not be a good idea._

* * *

**Saturday evening…**

The doorbell rang at 7pm sharp. Dan Robbins stood in front dressed in a casual sport jacket with trendy patched elbows and holding two bottles of well researched Sonoma red wine. Mike thanked him and invited to sit with him in the front room. Both Jeannie and Irene were busy in the kitchen.

"Shall we chill the wine, Dan?"

"That's probably a good idea."

When Mike returned, he offered a beer which Dan gladly accepted.

Despite the alcohol and the pair's better efforts, the conversation was stilted. Dan was simply trying too hard. Relief came when Steve and Carolyn appeared several minutes later. The pair appeared casual and elegant at the same time, as if they walked out of a stylish magazine. Carolyn greeted Mike with peck on the cheek, lovely flowers for the hostess and a pound of Kona coffee for after dinner.

"Now this lady has style, Steve," Mike commented as he slapped his friend on the back.

"Don't I know it," Steve grinned. He nodded at Dan on the sofa, who rose to greet them. Everything seemed to be starting on the right foot.

* * *

The group enjoyed a wonderfully prepared roast beef dinner with all the trimmings, complemented by the wine Dan brought. Conversation was light and upbeat, but tended to center on Mike, Jean and Steve. The men discussed current and past cases, with Irene taking some interest. Dan refrained from talking shop and instead had seconds and thirds of the wine. Discussion later shifted to Jeannie's schooling, her time in Arizona and plans for after the summer now that she was finished with college. Carolyn said little, but generally kept a smile on her face.

After dinner, Irene and Jean cleared the dishes, accompanied by Steve who demonstrated his ability to be a modern man as he carried plates into the kitchen and tossed leftover scraps into the trash can.

Irene took note and whispered to Jeannie, "He's really cute, don't you think?"

"I've never noticed." the young woman responded with a big, bold grin on her face. The women looked at each other and giggled.

"What are you two up to?" Steve asked as he hunched over the trash can scraping plates.

"Nothing - we're just getting the coffee ready," Irene advised. "Darling, you've left your girlfriend alone with Mike and Dan. I think you should go rescue her before she is driven mad by the awkward silence," Irene quipped as she recalled Dan's earlier attempt at conversation with Mike. Steve obeyed.

"Dan's not that bad," Jean defended in a low voice.

"I'm sure he's a nice young man, but he's got a long way to go with this crowd. Poor guy finished one of those bottles by himself. Does he normally drink like that?"

Jeannie thought for a moment. "No, he really doesn't. He's actually a sweet guy. He's a health buff and I don't think he's used to drinking."

"Then it's your father, dear. He makes most suitors nervous. I don't blame the poor boy. He's probably afraid this will turn into the Inquisition."

Jeannie smiled. "Aw, Mike can be good when he wants to be. It's just when it comes to his little girl, he's about as friendly as a grizzly bear."

* * *

The ladies rejoined the group in the front room with Jeannie carrying a carafe of Kona coffee and Irene following with a tray of cream, sugar and cups for everyone.

Steve and Carolyn sat in the love seat and Mike grabbed the chair next to the pair. He was most interested in hearing about the interview.

"So, how did it go, Buddy boy? Is Berkeley ready to take you back?"

Steve raised his eyebrows and cocked his head in a nervous reaction, "I guess it went okay. I should hear something next week."

As Jeannie poured the coffee, she asked, "What subject would you teach, Steve?"

"I'd take a turn with a couple of the basic criminology classes and then I'd also teach a course on current practices in homicide investigations."

"Do they have the class curriculum already set?" she pressed.

"Yes, it'd be what the department heads have already established. But then I'd have an opportunity to add insight from my experience."

"I think I'm missing something here," Dan interjected. "Are you becoming a teacher, Steve?"

"Maybe, Dan. I had an interview on Friday for a spot in the Criminology department at Berkeley."

"Berkeley, huh? I didn't know." Dan frowned slightly. Steve noticed the look but opted not to say more.

"Steve would have an opportunity to finish his graduate degree and then perhaps go for a PhD," Carolyn added proudly.

"You would be following in your grandfather's footsteps, that's for sure," Jeannie added.

"Grandpa was a PhD and a tenured professor - he taught for over forty years at Harvard. I doubt if that will happen for me, but if I can do a fraction of the good he did, I'd be happy," Steve replied graciously.

"He was published twice," Jeannie announced proudly. "I read one of his books."

Irene joined in the conversation as Steve shot Jeannie a surprised smile. "What did he write about, Steve?"

"He had keen interest in the reconstruction of Europe after WWII. Both books he wrote tried to critique the impact of the Marshall plan and other steps that were taken to get Europe back on her feet. The first was published on the five year anniversary of the Plan. The follow-up was written about fifteen years later."

"Very impressive, that grandfather of yours. But I have a feeling the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," Irene added. She gazed over at Mike who was quiet and had an oddly distant look on his face. "You'll miss him, won't you, honey?"

"What?" Mike seemed to snap out of his trance.

"I said, you'll miss Steve if he takes the teaching job," Irene repeated.

Steve interrupted with a crack to lighten the mood, "He'll find someone else to harass, just like he found me."

Mike joined in, "Yeah, only my next partner won't be leaving sunflower seed shells all over the place or arguing with me over what to put on a pizza."

"Ha!" Steve laughed. "There's no other person on earth who eats as many anchovies as you. You'll never find anyone that goes along with that. You force me to either eat them or peel them off the pizza." He mimicked pinching an anchovy and carefully pulling it up from an imaginary slice of pizza. "Yuck."

"Yuck? You and all that fancy food, Buddy boy. My next partner is going to be a meat and potatoes guy. And no hot tea. I have no idea where you picked that up. Nobody on the west coast drinks hot tea except in Chinatown. But you know what? I figure you'll fit right in with all of those professors and their tofu and grass juice."

"Tofu and grass juice, is that what you think?" Steve laughed.

"They are either smoking the grass or drinking it, Buddy boy."

"I just wonder if you will call your next partner 'Buddy boy', or if that's just special for me."

"I'm going to retire that nickname when you leave. They broke the mold with you," Mike chuckled.

The pair exchanged a quick supportive glance at each other which spoke volumes of their mutual feelings. They hoped no one else had noticed.

"Besides," Jeannie offered, "it's not like Steve will be on another planet. He'll just be across the Bay."

"Yeah, we can still go to ballgames. I can come over for a Giants game. Then you can swing over to the east side and see how a real team plays in Oakland." Steve winked at Jeannie.

"You and that American League of yours. Clearly inferior," Mike was beginning to roar. "I don't understand why you follow it. Didn't your radio broadcast baseball from San Francisco when you were in Modesto? Or did it only go as far as Oakland?"

"Very funny. You know the hitting is better in the American League and one of these days, the AL will clean your clock in the All Star games and the World Series."

"I'll clean your clock…" Mike chided.

"Boys…" Irene warned.

"Are you going to move over to that side of the Bay when you start teaching?" Jeannie asked.

"Probably. My lease is coming up for renewal, so it will make sense to consider a change then."

"I never even thought about you wanting to move over there," Carolyn pondered.

"Well, we'll see what's going on. That won't be for a few months. The cart is getting before the horse anyway, Carolyn. I haven't even been made an offer."

"I don't think they would have taken it this far, Steve. They were after you last year and again this year. Berkeley wants you." Mike's solemn expression returned as he spoke.

Dan uttered something that was a cross between an 'harumph' and a sigh. Jeannie looked at her date and asked what was wrong.

"Oh nothing, I was just thinking. Not everyone would be welcome at Berkeley. Steve's got to be one remarkable guy to be a cop and be allowed on campus, let alone paid to be there." Dan's tone became progressively sarcastic.

"I don't think I follow you, Dan." Steve countered.

"It's nothing. I just don't think I would be welcome at Berkeley. After all, I was in Vietnam and I'm a cop. And not degreed, like you. That's three strikes against me there. I'm just an everyday run of the mill boy in blue with an honorable discharge."

"Oh," Steve decided for Jeannie's sake to ignore the comment.

Dan continued. "I'm sorry, Steve. But it just gets to me. I served my country, which is more than the students there did. And yet, the kids at the colleges protested us. They called us baby killers and murderers. I have a hard time considering a campus like Berkeley to a desirable place."

"I understand, Dan. But not all of the students were like that. I mean, I know I wasn't. I really respected the guys that went over to serve. A lot of kids did. Sure, I was involved in protests, but those had to do with Civil Rights. Besides, a lot of students had fathers who took advantage of the GI Bill. Hell, some of the students were on the GI Bill when I went."

"I know you mean well, Steve. You were there probably just before the worst parts of the anti-war protests."

Steve nodded his understanding. Dan was directionally correct in that Steve was finishing his studies as the war protests ramped up in the late sixties.

Dan sighed. "Most people don't get it. The men in my family have a long history of service. I can trace back to the Civil War, the Spanish American War, WWI, WWII and Korea…and then me in 'Nam."

Jeannie was seeing a side to Dan she hadn't seen before. He was still polite, but the alcohol emboldened him and left him teetering on the line.

"Absolutely, Dan," Steve responded. "The country owes your family a big thank you."

Dan sensed that Steve was being disingenuous. "C'mon Steve, don't be so patronizing. What did your family do? I mean, Steve…your grandfather was a Harvard Lib for all of those years."

Mike interrupted, "Dan, I don't think that's appropriate."

"I'm not meaning that in the political sense, sir. After all, I was one of the dozen who voted for McGovern, too, you know." Dan refocused his glare at Steve, "But there are some people who simply talk the talk while others actually walk the walk."

"Dan, how about some more coffee?" Irene offered.

Ignoring the offer, Dan continued. "What about it, Steve? Was grandpa in the military?"

"No, he wasn't." Steve's ability to remain calm surprised even himself. "His family were Quakers from long ago. He did eventually convert to another denomination, but that's another story." Steve turned his direction to Jeannie and Irene. "Quakers were like conscientious objectors. They didn't believe in the violence of war."

"Figures," Dan remarked. "And how about your father, Steve? Wasn't he a corporate exec somewhere?"

Steve's mouth was open and he wasn't sure how to reply. "No, you are mistaken on that one. My father was not an executive anywhere."

"That's not what I heard. The word is that he was loaded and gave you all of the advantages that most kids never had. I mean, let's start with that Porsche…"

Carolyn's eyes widened at the turn of the conversation as Steve debated on how he should answer. He quickly glanced at his hosts. Mike was clearly agitated at Jeannie's date. Irene had a very sympathetic face peering back at him. Jeannie was horrified.

Dan continued. "And what about the war, Steve? Most of us had fathers who served in the army or navy. Why do I have a feeling that yours was in college or jockeying a desk somewhere?"

"Dan, the wine has done you in and you are talking out of your ass, pardon the phrase." Steve was becoming angry, but still tried his best to keep it in.

"Then why don't you set the record straight, Steve?"

"Dan, that is enough," Mike warned.

"Well, you are right about one thing," Steve responded quietly and paused for a moment to reflect. "My father did not serve in the Army or the Navy."

"Uh-huh…"

"He was a member of the Resistance. It's a long story, but he joined up when he returned to France in 1940."

"Returned?" Jeannie was intrigued.

"Yes, he was raised in Paris, but then was schooled at MIT as an engineer. So he did a stint on Boston where he met my mom. Anyway, he returned home to join du Gaulle's effort and ended up working on Plan Bleu. Ever heard of it?" He looked at Mike when he asked the question.

"Indeed, I have, Buddy boy. It shut down the electrical network in the northern region of France and helped slow the Germans on D-Day."

"Yes, exactly. After that, he went south as the German's began their retreat. Unfortunately, he was killed during the invasion of Provence."

"That was just two months later," Mike commented after hearing something his partner had never disclosed before.

"Yes, it was in August, 1944 - a little more than a month before I was born. I never got to meet him."


	16. Act 5, Part 2: The One You're With

**Departure**

Act 5, Part 2: The One You're With

After dinner conversation doesn't go as planned. Dan digs himself a little deeper as Steve explains more about his family and what they did during the war.

* * *

_As Steve was talking about Plan Bleu, I was transported to my own wartime memories from the Pacific Theater. My service occurred from 1943 until 1945. For the latter part of that time, I was on the USS Bunker Hill and provided support for the Battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. Okinawa was particularly tough because we had kamikazes targeting us. The Bunker Hill sustained the most losses of any surviving ship during the war. While the losses were many, there was never anytime to dwell on how bad it was. Clearly, I will never forget those days._

_While we were in the throes of action in the Pacific, we all kept tabs on how the war in Europe was going. I was completely aware of the activities in 1944, including D-Day and the subsequent invasions by the Allied Forces in Europe. After all, the strategy was Europe First. The sooner the Germans were defeated, the sooner we could build our forces in the Pacific and finish the job. So, no doubt in some ways, Steve's dad saved lives a world away. Perhaps he saved mine. _

_I was mulling that whole idea when I was caught off guard by the silence of the group. Dan had truly stepped in it. The glares he received from the women in the room spelled 'trouble'. (Really, I nearly smiled at that scene. You could always count on Steve having plenty of female defenders and this time he came up aces.) _

_Steve, himself, seemed less bothered by Dan's comments. He actually looked like he had a bit of sympathy for Dan. But then I had second thoughts about that conclusion. It would be a safer bet that given Steve's concerns about Jeannie dating Dan , my partner was not unhappy that Dan's outburst occurred._

* * *

Jeannie was the first to speak. "Steve, how awful!"

"I never knew this and we've been dating for several months," Carolyn added stiffly.

Attempting sobriety, Dan quickly apologized. "Steve, I'm so sorry. I didn't know either. I had always heard you were an arrogant jerk and that daddy had bought your way. There were many rumors about you, especially since you rose through the department so quickly and landed a cherry job in Homicide."

Irene, Carolyn and Jeannie met his so-called apology with squinted eyes and a straight line expression.

Steve was grinning. It wasn't every day someone casually called him as an arrogant jerk to his face. "What kinds of rumors, Dan?"

Dan was flushed and looking ill. "Mostly how you were born with a silver spoon and slept on feather pillows from the start. You just weren't like the other guys on the force."

Feigning shock, Steve looked at Mike, whom he heard utter those same phrases on a number of occasions during their partnership. "I can't imagine anyone saying that about me."

Mike picked up the cue and pleaded, "I didn't do anything. Why am I getting blamed for this?"

"Actually, it's my own fault," Steve confessed. The women turned to him with surprised looks. "I am the one who has perpetuated those rumors. At least I didn't stop them. If people wanted to assume I was from affluence and privilege, that was fine. I'm sure I got more girls that way," he said with smile and a wink. He quickly glanced at Carolyn who was not amused.

"I can see where people think you are an arrogant jerk, dear." Carolyn replied dryly. Steve rolled his eyes, but remained upbeat.

Jeannie was intrigued by what she heard so far and realized that Steve wasn't particularly angry or upset. "Could you tell us what happened? That must have been horrible for your mother."

Steve let out a quick chuckle and then fell silent. "Mom," he finally said wistfully. "Now she was something…"

"I can't imagine being back here in the States and so far along in a pregnancy, then hearing that your husband had been killed," Jeannie pressed with sympathy in her tone.

Mike considered telling Jeannie to refrain from asking more, but in fact, he too was interested. Over the past few years, Mike had picked up on bits and pieces of Steve's childhood while they passed time during prolonged stake-outs. Their conversations were usually topical, but occasionally, both men would draw from experiences which would serve only to enhance the point they were trying to make. Mike knew there had been tragedy, but he also respected the fact that his partner didn't dwell on the past. The older partner never pried.

"Actually, it wasn't that way at all," Steve corrected. "The men and women who took part in the Resistance were not military. Generally, the rank and file were independent citizens. Many ex-pats returned to France for the cause. It was not uncommon for those ex-pats to come back with spouses and families. That's what Dad and Mom did."

"They were _both_ there?" Irene asked.

"Yes, they came to France in 1940. It was my mother's first time traveling abroad. Dad, of course, reconnected with some of his friends and then got hooked up with the Resistance. Those were dangerous times, but my folks stayed together for as long as they could. He even had a regular day job, but it was a bit 'cloak and dagger', if you know what I mean."

"Almost like they were spies." Irene imagined.

"In many ways, they all were. They had to be careful and have each other's back. Mom was kind of a nut. She loved what they were doing. She was passionate about defeating the nazis and dug the idea that she was directly contributing to the fight as part of the front line."

"All this from a daughter of a Quaker, though?" Mike asked.

"She was a rebel. And she was the one who changed my grandfather's thinking. It was because of her that he questioned his objection to fighting a war. It was a struggle for him. But for WWII, there just seemed to be no other answer."

"So she was stoking the home fires while your dad was working for the Resistance?"

"Maybe not quite so 'Ozzie and Harriet'. And by the time she was pregnant with me in 1944, it was simply too dangerous for her to be there. She went to live with Dad's sister."

"Back in the States?"

"Umm, no. In Switzerland. Dad's brother-in-law was a…hmm…how do I say this? He was a well paid corporate executive who worked for a large multi-national corporation," he whispered as he grinned at Dan. Dan looked down. "Switzerland, of course, was neutral. She was safe there."

"Were you born over there, then?" Jeannie continued to ask questions.

"Yes, but since I was born of an American overseas during the war, I've always been considered an American citizen."

"Still you can't run for President, can you?" Jeannie asked with a mischievous grin.

"Of the US? Ha, no….not now, not ever."

Dan let out a sigh as Jeannie pressed for more information. "Let me ask you something, Steve. Keller is not really a French name. What's the story there?"

Carolyn was frowning. She had never thought to ask Steve much about his background. She knew he was a cop, liked fine food and enjoyed certain discreet recreational activities with her. But their conversations never touched on anything which made them who they were. She was beginning to feel quite distant from her date.

Steve was oblivious to Carolyn's plight and answered Jean. "Wow…you are really getting the full story. So, let's see…you are right about the fact that Keller isn't a French name. Ironically, it's German. Dad's parents were from Berlin. They moved to Paris at the turn of the century."

"Any particular reason why?" Irene asked.

"Well, my dad's dad, my other grandfather, was a gem cutter. He was really an artisan and was brought over to work for one of the large jewelers in Paris."

"He must have been talented."

"My aunt had told me about him and he was quite good. But my grandparents would have jumped at the chance to make the move anyway. Fashion and design were really starting to flourish in Paris. And that timeframe was the Belle Epoque. It was very appealing to a young, idealistic artist-wannabe."

"The Belle Epoque…I'm not sure I know what that is, Steve." Jeannie replied.

"I do," Irene said. "It was the golden era of Paris. You had all of those amazing Impressionist artists, the Moulin Rouge, the construction of the Eifel Tower. Eventually many incredible thinkers and writers went there. Talk about culture."

"Yes, and so Grandpa Keller's dream was to be an artist. What better place to be? Just think of who was there during that day…you had Gauguin, Matisse, Rousseau, Toulouse-Lautrec - all of the big Post - Impressionist and Modernist names. And this was after Van Gogh and Monet. Even Picasso moved there."

"Drink to me…" Jeannie toasted.

"Drink to my health." Steve answered with Picasso's last words and lifted his own coffee mug. Mike had no idea what was going on there as Steve quickly jumped back to his story. "But with those artists' talent, he couldn't even make a dent, so he stayed with the gem cutting and jewelry design."

"What an amazing time to be in Paris," Jeannie glowed.

"Yes, in that day it was spectacular."

Irene was also intrigued. "So your grandfather at last did well enough to send your father to MIT for an education, right?"

"That's right. And that's where my dad met my mother."

"So, what happened to your mom, then?" Jeannie asked. "Mike and I had read the obituary of your grandfather and it mentioned that she had preceded him in death. Did something happen to her in France?"

"Well, yes and no. You see, after I was born, Mom wanted to carry on the fight of my father's. She worked with the Resistance basically providing whatever aide she could until VE Day the following year. During that time, she met another Frenchman, Jean D'Aumont. They later married and decided to stay in Paris. Not long after the war, he became a part of the French Diplomatic Corps in Southeast Asia."

"That's impressive."

"There was so much going on in the early fifties with the French Indochina war. Many of the French politicians opposed continuing and were trying to exit gracefully. Unfortunately, there were several bloody attacks in the regions against the French. Mom and her husband were killed in a car bombing in Vietnam about ten years after my dad died."

"Oh, my. Steve, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, but she died as she lived - she was very much the adventuress. She used to send me little trinkets from wherever she was. She never forgot me."

Steve paused with a sigh, "But, there you have most of it. My mom knew that the life she was leading in Asia with her new husband was not a good way to raise child. My uncle and aunt couldn't have kids, so I stayed with them. His company transferred him to a facility outside of Modesto, so I moved here as a small child and grew up in that area."

"Do you have much memory of Switzerland, then?"

"Some. I was five when we left."

"Do you speak French?"

"I've lost a lot of it and what's left is not very good."

"I love French…it always sounds so romantic. No matter what you say, it sounds like mad passionate love. Steve, say something in French," Jeannie asked playfully.

"Ha, are you serious?" Steve asked as Carolyn fixed a glare, this time at Jeannie. Despite that, Steve decided to play along.

"Sil vous plais? It's the only phrase I know."

"Then, oui mademoiselle. Let's see. How about - je vous remercie pour ce soir."

"What does that mean?"

"It means' I thank you for this evening'."

"Okay, I did hear 'mercy'. Say something else."

Steve looked at the ceiling and thought for a moment. "Now it's been awhile, so my phrasing may not be so good. But here goes:

…. Votre petit ami est un bouffon, mais je ne pouvais pas être plus jaloux…Il vous suffit de prendre mon souffle."

"Ooo-la-la," Jeannie exclaimed as Irene's eyes widened. "Okay, what did you say?"

"I said the roast beef was delicious, but the green beans were a bit overdone and soft."

"You said what?" Irene exclaimed.

Jeannie ignored Irene in her excitement. "I thought I heard 'beef' and 'souffle'. Souffle must mean 'soft'…. Hey - what do you mean the green beans were overdone and soft?"

Irene squinted Steve's way. _You little stinker, _she thought to herself.

* * *

(My apologies to anyone who really speaks French…Google Translate has been my friend here.)


	17. Act 5, Part 3: The One You're With

I did flip this over to a "T" - minor suggestive adult themes.

* * *

**Departure**

Act 5, Part 3: The One You're With

Could Steve break up with Carolyn? What else was on his mind?

* * *

4am Monday morning…

Steve rolled over and peered at the electric clock with glow-in-the-dark hands. Knowing that he had three hours to go before Mike arrived, he tried to force himself back to sleep. It was useless.

He had been restless most of the night - unwinding from a rather shaky weekend with Carolyn and gearing up for a week which would most likely result in the decision to resign his post as police inspector.

He thought back to Saturday evening after the dinner party. The ride back to his apartment was in silence. It wasn't the first time that had happened with Carolyn, Steve rationalized. Each time before, things worked out.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" he had finally asked her as they neared his apartment.

Carolyn didn't respond.

"Aw, c'mon, Babe. Are you _that_ mad at me?"

"You ignored me tonight," Carolyn responded sharply. "All of your attention was paid to Mike's bobbysoxer coed."

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Carolyn," Steve hissed.

"You didn't even look at me!" the brunette protested. "The whole time you talked to Jeannie. No one else was in the room."

"First, you and I were sitting side by side. Secondly, Jeannie was the one actually interested in the conversation. I didn't hear you ask one question or make a single comment while we were talking."

Carolyn started to speak, but Steve cut her off. "Let alone the fact that you did nothing to defend me. Dan was out to embarrass me and my family, and you said nothing. I'm the one who should be mad here." Steve's voice became louder.

Carolyn's mouth was clamped shut as she stared out the window.

"I'll just take you home then," Steve said in a huff as he made a u-turn on the quiet street and began the drive to Carolyn's place. "I'm sorry it was such a bad evening for you."

Carolyn maintained her silence.

_Do we break up tonight? _Steve had thought to himself. As long as they had dated, Steve knew deep down that Carolyn wasn't a long term prospect. She was pretty and usually fun to be around, but she was also self-centered and did not care to know much about his day to day life.

"No…" Carolyn uttered as if she were reading his mind. "No…let's just forget about this evening. I'm sorry. I want to go back to your place." She slid her hand onto his thigh.

Steve was hesitant. Catching a quick glance at the location of her hand, his near term needs were screaming loudly. Yet, his head was telling him to continue on to her home.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Clearly he was not going to do the right thing tonight.

"Yes."

Steve looked over at his passenger and saw the moonlight reflect off her alabaster skin. She flashed large sad eyes his way and gave a slight smile.

Steve caught the look head-on. "I'm sorry, too," he said softly as he redirected the car to his home.

He knew it was wrong and knew they should part ways. But sometimes it was better to be with the wrong person than no one at all. As they entered his apartment, Steve flipped on the light, laid his keys on the side table near the front door and quickly took off his suit coat. After the dinner party and the heated words, the feeling continued to be awkward between the two. Still, there was something there that attracted Steve. Apparently, Carolyn felt the same way.

He walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist. She responded by draping her arms around his shoulders. While somewhat slight in build, Steve's upper arms were rock solid in an embrace. The touch drove her mad, so she treated herself as she ran her hands up and down his arms feeling his muscles. He allowed her the excursion as he began tracing her neck with his lips.

Gazing at each other, they soon closed their eyes and kissed. He pulled her tighter and then slowly parted her lips with his tongue. The kiss was prolonged and enjoyable; the tension Carolyn felt at Mike's was gone. Her hands reached his neck tie where she slowly loosened the knot and lightly lightly brushed his Adam's apple with her lips.

His hand slid down until he found the small of her back, a favorite spot for him. Lingering there for a short minute, he finally let his hand slip further down and drew her even closer. She gasped and threw her head back as they both swayed in excitement.

His lips created a trail down her neckline as he kept one hand around her waist. The other hand made its way around to her front as he cupped her breast. In a sultry voice reminiscent of Bacall, she said, "I like making up with you, Babe. It almost makes the argument worthwhile."

He chuckled as he kissed her again. Then with a devilish look on his face, he was intentionally crude in his response. "Okay, what is it? Bed, couch, kitchen table? Hanging from a curtain rod?"

She cocked an eyebrow at the last suggestion. "You're one sick man. I think we should go to your room," she directed as she broke the embrace and led him by his loosened tie back to his room.

Steve smiled at the memory. They enjoyed each other well into the night and slept in until the late morning. After a casual lunch, he drove her home.

Perhaps it was the late sleep hours that morning, but Steve found that he couldn't get settled the next evening. After hitting the bed near midnight, he fitfully got up at 2am and thought that a book might lull him back to sleep. That worked for a short time, but finally two hours later he was awake.

While the memory of Carolyn at the apartment was pleasant and any real question of their future successfully deferred, Steve identified the source of his restlessness and realized that it was anxiety. He knew very well that Professor Atwater could call with an offer. Was he prepared to take it? Was he ready to leave the department after eight years. He was just two years short of his pension vesting. Did it even make sense to make the change now?

Then Steve thought back to the conversation he had with Glenn Decker. He had fully disclosed his anxieties about the possibility of shooting another innocent looking person. What if his life, or worse, Mike's life was in danger? How could he ever face his coworkers, Irene or especially Jeannie if his actions placed Mike in peril? That was his worst-case scenario.

So much of Saturday evening's conversation made Steve recall his parents and grandfather. What would his family advise him to do? His folks both lived and died in heroic times - his dad fought the Nazis and his mother provided aide during the war only to ultimately give her life during the turmoil in Asia. What would they think?

With the war, the enemy was clear. Similarly, Steve thought the enemy would be nearly as transparent when he first became a cop. The criminal was always the bad guy…and while most of the time there was a hardened element to those whom he encountered, there were indeed instances where looks had been deceiving.

His mind flashed back to the Davies boy, whom he shot and killed three years before. While the boy was an armed robber who had fled the scene after a shooting, he was still only a teenager. The detective remembered the anguish and guilt. This was heightened by the parents' reaction in filing the wrongful death suit, which was later dropped. Still, the incident left a permanent scar.

There had been other incidents involving not only young people, but women as the so-called hardened criminals. He had a difficulty judging the character of women - a revelation that surprised him early on. His partner recognized it too, and considered that an area of development for the young man.

Steve rolled over in his bed as his mind continue to reel. What if he got the job offer? What would he do?

The bigger question: What if he didn't?


	18. Act 6, Part 1: The Long Day

**Departure**

Act 6, Part 1: The Long Day

* * *

Just after 7am, Mike sat in the driver's seat of the unmarked police car and waited outside the grey apartment building on Union Street. After several minutes, he got out of the car and stared at the door of the apartment as if to will the young man outside. He looked at his watch and thought perhaps his partner had overslept. _Damn it, Steve; I'm a cop, not an alarm clock, _Mike mumbled to himself as he started up the steps.

The apartment door sprang open and a hurried Steve Keller bounded out adjusting his tie.

"Well, good morning, sleepyhead. Wasn't sure if you were up quite yet."

"I guess I fell back asleep. Sorry."

"That's okay. It makes me think of Dagwood Bumstead seeing you come racing out like that," Mike teased. "How was the rest of your weekend?"

Steve slowed his pace. "Quiet but good. How about you?"

"Curious. I got a call from Tanner yesterday. Rocco phoned in. Seems as though things escalated over the weekend. Olssen, Magnusson and their group were out in force sending a message to the Red Dragons. They went to a small cafe where the Dragons were hanging out. Threats were made and it looked like things would come to blows right then and there."

"What happened?"

"Everyone backed off. Cops weren't even called. Apparently both parties felt like it wasn't the time or the place."

"How many people were involved?

"About a dozen, including some new talent up from downstate in the Red Dragons. Apparently, the Dragons are an offshoot from LA and the LA group sent a couple of enforcers up. They may have been the ones who hit Buddy Hammer. Magnusson heard about it and decided to send a warning. You know who else was there?"

"Brother Eric?"

"Along with the young kid pool hall. You know the one: he was hiding the supply room. They're starting them young over there."

"Not what I want to hear." Steve said nearly inaudibly.

"What?" Mike asked as he tossed his keys to his partner.

"Nothing." Steve sighed. "It's just ridiculous to put kids into a picture like that. He should be at home looking at his baseball card collection."

"Is that what you were doing at fifteen?" Mike smirked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Steve answered a bit more defiantly than intended. "I sure as hell wasn't involved in some underworld gang war."

The partners got in the car and Steve started the engine. "We still have an open murder case with Buddy Hammer. Do we pursue the Dragons? Do we have a handle on who they brought up?"

"Tanner and Healy are looking into that one. Since they found a link between the two gangs, they are in contact with the LA cops who are looking into their local boys' activity."

* * *

Sam Magnusson arrived at the pool hall to find his surviving nephew Eric and the young boy who now made the facility his second home. Joey felt a loyalty to Eric, who had ostensibly shown the youth friendship. Since his brother's passing, Eric did indeed feel a stronger connection with the boy. His presence was not unwelcome.

"Eric…word." the dapper, white haired man motioned to his nephew. He wanted to speak to him in private.

"Yes, sir?" Eric replied as he walked over to the far corner of the shop with his uncle.

"After our little tête-à-tête with the Dragons, I'm convinced, they took down Buddy. I know who did it now."

"Who?" Eric responded sharply. He was eager to learn what he could about the killing and wanted desperately to find out who murdered his brother.

"They hired a guy in from LA. His name is Wang Tao. It was meant to be a message to me and Olssen."

"Those bastards! And you're sure?"

"Yes, no doubt in my mind."

"What are we going to do?"

"Vengeance is the only way, Eric. They took one of ours, so we'll take two of theirs. We know where these guys are now and Olssen's men are looking for Tao in particular."

"When? Now?"

"We think we can catch them off guard. Yes, I'll be meeting one of Olssen's guys and we're going to pay a little visit to the Dragons. They won't know what hit them."

"I want a piece of this, Sam," Eric insisted. "Buddy was my brother."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. As a matter of fact, you are going to be one of the trigger guys. Can you handle that?"

Eric hesitated for a half second. "For Buddy."

Joey spoke up. "May I come too?"

Sam looked over at the youth with the expressive, dark eyes. "Son, this is not going to be child's play. This isn't your fight either. Why don't you go home. I'm sure Eric will see you tomorrow."

"Buddy was good to me. I want to help," Joey pleaded.

"Joey, I'm touched. Really. You're a good kid to say that, but no - you need to stay away. We shouldn't have had you come Saturday night either."

Sam added. "Yeah, kid. It's going to get tough now. You should go home where you belong."

Joey hung his head. This was the first place where he really felt like he belonged. It wasn't home.

* * *

Stone walked out of his office for a refill of coffee. It was not even late morning and he was on his fourth cup. Something about today made him a little nervous. Call it gut instinct - was there a time bomb about to blow in the Mission area? Or was the time bomb a few feet outside of his desk about to receive another job offer?

He noticed Healy winding up a call and paused for a moment to see if there had been any developments. Healy noticed Mike and nodded. "Those were the cops from LA. Sounds like the gang that's related to the Red Dragons is the Tiger Boyz."

"Tiger Boys?"

"Boyz with a Z, boss. Yeah, dangerous and very smart. They aren't so turf oriented, but they are part of a global operation. We're apparently viewed as a 'growth' market here, so they established the Dragon and brought up a couple of their guys to assist."

"Nice to know we have potential for growth. What are they after here?"

"Right now, they are muscling their way into establish a network. Seems like that's what they did in LA. They came here from Hong Kong, they roll out a business - in LA it was a car ring. Here, it's apparently drugs. At any rate, they deliver faster, cheaper and better to their distributors. Oh, and they've been known to take out some of the competition to intimidate anyone who may challenge there."

"Do we have any names?"

"All Asian - Sam Li, he's the head guy. He's actually the brother of the LA leader. Then there's Chang Hu and Wo Sun who are from here. From LA, there's Wang Tao and Chin Wu. I have it written down here," Healy said as he handed the list to Mike. "Oh, and apparently they have been hanging out at a place called "Jimmy's Café" over near Clark Street, a couple of blocks south of Walnut. Would is that they are staying either their in the building or nearby."

"Great, Dan, thanks." Mike turned to face his partner who had been listening on the developments. "Okay Buddy boy, I think we need to take a ride over to…" Mike was interrupted by the phone ringing on Steve's desk.

"Excuse me," Steve said as he reached back and grabbed the phone. "Keller."

Mike thought nothing of the phone call until he saw the expression on his partner's face change. Steve turned around and grabbed a pencil and paper. Mike couldn't tell what was going on, but he could tell that Steve was listening intently.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon, sir," came the reply by Steve. Those words nearly froze Mike to his spot. Not wanting to eavesdrop, he decided to walk back into his office.

After a couple of minutes, Steve finally spoke. "Yes, sir. No, that sounds very fair."

"Yes, okay." At this point, Steve shot a quick glance to his mentor and then looked down. "Thank you sir. Yes, I'd like to take some time to think about this now. Is it all right if I contact you tomorrow with an answer?"

The response must have been affirmative. "Great, thank you very much. I'll talk to you then."

Steve hung up the phone, scribbled something down and then sighed. Mike met his gaze and looked downward. The young man rose, walked into the office and shut the door behind him.

"Well, I guess congratulations are in order," Mike tried to put on a brave smile. "To get a Monday morning offer from a Friday interview is impressive."

"They had a departmental meeting last night. Staffing for the fall was their number one priority, so they did make an offer, yes. But I told them I wanted to think it over. I'd like to talk to you about it."

"I'd appreciate that. When do you have to get back with them?"

"I told them tomorrow."

"Okay, that will give us some time. Maybe tonight we can go grab a beer after work. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good," Steve replied quietly. He had the strange feeling that he had hurt Mike deeply with this development.

"Good, but first, let's go over to the Mission and have a talk with a Mr. Li."


	19. Act 6, Part 2: The Long Day

**Departure**

Act 6, Part 2: The Longest Day

Steve's nightmare becomes reality.

* * *

_I didn't want to ask while we were driving over to the Mission area. I simply couldn't. We were on our way to talk to potential suspects related to the homicide of Buddy Hammer. These so-called suspects just happened to be members of a global organized crime ring. I needed Steve to be focused and at his best. I didn't need for him to get distracted or think I was upset with him. Time for talking about the offer and his future was to be later that day…or so I thought._

* * *

The detectives pulled alongside the front entrance of Jimmy's Café. Mike found the street number of the restaurant and confirmed the address. At that time of day, traffic was mercifully light.

"According to Healy, this is where they've been hanging out. Jimmy's is actually owned by a cousin of one of the guys on the list he gave me. In addition to them occupying the café, some of these thugs are staying upstairs in rented rooms. Li should be in the main area of the café. I want to know where he and his boys were the night Hammer was killed."

"Got it," Steve acknowledged Mike's thorough instructions, and they exited the vehicle.

The pair surveyed the area. Jimmy's was in a rundown neighborhood that looked more like an industrial section. The café stood out among the buildings, many of which looked empty. It had a small yellow and green lighted sign that was accompanied by a couple of popular beer brand neon light fixtures. There were a few handbills posted in the large window which fronted the shop.

As the pair made their entrance, Mike felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He looked over to his partner, who was taking it all in. "Be careful," Mike cautioned. For a split second, he was taken back to the first case that he and his partner worked. At that point, Steve was only two years out of college, but barely looked out of high school. Much had changed since then. Mike shook himself back to the present as Steve made eye contact.

Walking in, Stone noted an older Asian woman standing by the cash register. Aside from her, the main room was empty.

Mike approached the woman and pulled out his badge. "Lieutenant Stone, San Francisco PD. This is Inspector Keller," he said as Steve nodded. "I need to speak to Sam Li…"

Before he could finish two gunshots rang out from the back of the restaurant near the kitchen. The woman gasped and raised her hand to her mouth.

"Ma'am, you should get out now. Find a phone and call the police," Steve instructed as he followed Mike through the swinging door that ostensibly led to the kitchen.

The pair found the cook prone on the floor trying to take cover. "Is anyone hurt?" Mike asked.

"There's an office in the back corner," the cook pointed. "The shooting was over there. It happened so fast. I don't know if anyone was hit. I'm okay, though."

Steve ran over to the office and saw a body with its head partially blown off. He winced at his discovery. "He's dead, Mike," Steve said quietly.

"All right, evacuate the restaurant and wait. We'll need to get a statement from you," Mike instructed.

"Where'd they go?" Steve asked as he rejoined his partner.

"Out back. I heard the door slam to the alley," the cook said.

Mike and Steve ran through the back door to an area that was too narrow to be considered a traditional alleyway. They saw two figures running southbound toward the cross street and began pursuit.

After several steps, one of the figures turned and pointed his gun at the pair. The detectives both dove for the nearest cover. As the suspects returned to their flight, Steve and Mike began pursuit again. This time the suspects split, one continuing toward the cross street, while the other turned and entered the back end of another building.

Mike motioned for Steve to continue down the pathway and he obeyed. As soon as the suspect reached the cross street, a patrol car pulled up and blocked the fugitive from going any further. Steve held up his badge to identify himself to the policemen. The suspect swung his pistol toward Steve. The patrolmen had jumped out of the car in time to place the gunman within their sights.

"Police, freeze!" yelled one of the patrolmen. The suspect turned his gun towards the officers. The officers responded with gunfire. The first suspect was shot down.

"I'm going to go find Stone. He needs assistance. He went into the 3rd building on the right after the other suspect!" Steve yelled as he ran back up the pathway. One patrolman was hovering over the gunned down suspect while the other got on the radio to request back-up.

* * *

Mike entered the back of the vacant building, but saw no one. Stopping to listen, he could hear single footfalls running down a hallway. He picked up the direction, drew his gun and carefully pursued.

As he followed the sounds through the hallway, Mike continued to hear the steps and then heard a door shut. He presumed the suspect ran out the front. Assessing his situation, Mike looked around and found the room was filled with junk, including old implements and tools. The detective figured he might be in some sort of second hand supply store.

As he neared the door, Mike was unprepared for the suspect who jumped from behind a cabinet and slammed a crowbar into his midsection. He doubled over in pain and saw stars. His gun flew.

Once his vision cleared, Mike saw that it was Eric Hammer. The young man kicked Mike in the face. "You should have left this to us, Stone. These bastards killed my brother."

Mike was dazed and his face was a bloody mess. He had a hard time catching his breath and surmised he may have busted some ribs.

Sam Magnusson joined the pair and stared at Mike questioningly. "You know him?" Magnusson asked his nephew.

Mike was equally confused by Magnusson's presence. He was not the other man who Steve was pursuing. _There must have been at least three involved in the shooting._

Eric answered. "He's a cop who's been investigating Buddy's murder. Why are you here?" Eric directed the last question to Mike.

Mike responded, with jagged breath. "We were questioning the Red Dragons, but then we heard the gunshots. Why, Eric? We were building a case. Why couldn't you have waited?"

Eric couldn't admit that Mike and Steve's efforts would have done any good. He didn't buy into what Mike was saying, "I do not believe you would have made any arrest here. You would just as soon have gangs kill each other. To you, we are all just alike, but we have fought to have what we have."

Magnusson joined in. "It's about letting people not take what is yours, Detective. We have to protect our territory."

The door opened behind Eric, Magnusson and Mike in the midst of their confrontation. Eric glanced over and was surprised by whom he saw.

"I told you to stay behind. This is not the place for you," Eric scolded.

"I saw you run into the building and this man was following you. He's the cop from the other day, isn't he?" Mike was surprised to hear a young boy's voice in this situation. Magnusson approached Mike and yanked the cuffs from his belt clip.

"You shouldn't have come, Joey," Magnusson scolded. "Eric, cuff the dear detective to the radiator."

Eric kicked Mike again and harshly directed the man. "Move back to the wall and place your hands near the heater."

Mike hated being in this position, but did as he was told. He was quickly shackled to the radiator. Magnusson retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it in the officer's mouth. "This will keep you quiet."

"Okay boys, let's go," Magnusson said the Eric and Joey. As they turned, Mike stuck out his foot and tripped Eric. As Eric fell, his gun slipped out of his hands. Mike stretched his long leg out further and kicked the gun to the other side of the room.

Joey reached down to help Eric upright, but the three stopped as they all heard a new set of footfalls coming their way.

Mike's eyes widened as the look of fear overtook him. _Steve._

* * *

Steve rounded the corner and saw Mike on the ground, cuffed to the radiator. The two men and teenaged boy stood nearby waiting for the younger detective to run out into the open.

"Hold it! Police, freeze." Steve said as he stopped himself. With his gun drawn, Steve cautiously walked towards the trio. Magnusson was the only one who had access to a weapon, Steve reasoned, so he focused his attention on the older criminal.

Magnusson quickly lifted his gun towards Steve and pulled the trigger. As Steve returned fire, he felt a burning sensation in his upper left arm. Fortunately, Steve's aim was on target. Magnusson collapsed in a dead heap with a bullet in the chest.

The impact of the bullet lodged in his left arm left Steve staggering, but he regained his footing and focus quickly. He pointed his gun at Eric who attempted to retrieve his gun from the other side of the room. "Don't try it!"

Mike noted the angle with which Steve positioned his left arm and imagined his partner was in pain. It disturbed him to see the blood streaming down the left sleeve of Steve's jacket. Words could not describe Stone's feeling of helplessness.

Quickly, Joey picked up Mike's gun and pointed it at the older officer.

Steve's face paled as he recognized the situation he was in. He looked at his partner, who was cuffed, gagged and wide-eyed. His gaze shifted to the dark-haired teenaged boy, pointing a police issued .38 Special at his partner's head.

The young detective's worst nightmare had come true.


	20. Act 6, Part 3: The Long Day

**Departure**

Act 6, Part 3: The Long Day

* * *

_Steve was pale, sweating and clearly in pain, but his eyes told the real story. I remembered the same look in those eyes when he had shot the Davies boy three years ago. When I caught up with Steve that evening, he was kneeling over the body; shaken, pale and nearly in tears. His eyes conveyed the devastation he felt at being forced to shoot someone so young as well as the fear that the boy had been unarmed when he couldn't find Davies' gun. _

_Now Steve was in a similar situation. The fear in his eyes was there. It was fear that he would be forced to end the life of another boy; this one was probably even two or three years younger than Davies. To see the look in his eyes now, it was clear that Steve would do just about anything to avoid that outcome. The only difference in this situation was that we both knew Joey had a gun. He had _my_ gun and it was pointed at me. _

_It was all on Steve; he was the only one who could get us out of this mess. I never felt so helpless._

* * *

Eric was delighted. "Good boy, Joey. Now, go over and slide my gun over to me! It's only a few feet away from you".

"Joey, don't do it. Just calm down," Steve looked directly into the boys eyes and spoke gently. "No one needs to get hurt here."

"C'mon, Joey. Get me my gun and we'll both get out of here." Eric was applying pressure.

The detective quickly countered. "No, Joey. You need to listen to me. You are aiming a gun at an unarmed police officer. If that gun discharges, accidentally or deliberately, it's a capital offense. Do you understand me? So move your aim, okay?" Steve was calm, but there was a sense of pleading in his voice. "Joey, do you understand what I'm saying? You don't want to shoot the Lieutenant, here. Accidental or not, it would be a very serious crime, so move your line of fire."

Eric became quiet. The reality was that he did not want Stone killed. He never had intended for any harm to come to these police officers. All that was supposed to happen was that he and one of Olssen's men were to take someone out of Li's organization at the direction of his uncle. If they could get two, that was even better. He had no idea that the detectives would arrive at the café to question the Dragons.

"Joey, do you hear me?" Steve pressed as his sites remained on the boy. "Joey! Just move your gun!"

Joey finally became aware of what he was being told to do. Almost naturally, Joey turned to face Steve and with that action, pointed his gun directly at the young detective.

Mike groaned and emphatically shook his head.

Steve swallowed hard at that outcome. While not his intention, at least he got Mike out of the line of fire. "Well, that's better. Not ideal, from my perspective, but I'll take it," Steve commented dryly as he was now looking at the business end of Mike's gun. Eric started to make a move to retrieve his own gun.

"Eric, you stay still," Steve ordered. He returned his focus on Joey. He stared at the young boy and tried to figure a way to remove the possibility of him having to shoot the young boy. The kid was scared and could react irrationally. Steve knew he had to do something quickly. "Okay, now Joey. I tell you what I want you to do. I want you to leave the same way you came in. Just turn around and walk away. Take the gun with you, drop it in the next room and then leave."

Mike was stunned. He couldn't believe that Steve would let the boy go. The older detective shook his head again, but Steve ignored him.

"Did you hear what I said, Joey? You can go home. You are not the one that we're after and you really haven't done anything wrong except be loyal to people who are involved in some bad things. You strike me as a good kid and I don't think you deserve being in this situation," Steve continued to reason with the young man.

Joey stood still while the gun remained pointed at Steve.

"Joey, my objective is to get all four of us out of here alive. You can give me the gun or you can ditch the gun and get the hell out of here. We don't want to hurt Eric either. We'll take him in and he'll stand trial for what's happened. If you try to do something else, someone is going to get hurt. I don't want that and neither do you."

Eric thought for a moment and then took a glance at the dead man by his side. In addition to his uncle, he had lost his brother because of the mess they were in. He didn't want that to go any further. Lord knows, Eric was in too far himself. But he had been dragged into the business similar to what was happening now with Joey. Joey was innocent and Eric wanted it to stay that way.

"Joey," Eric said. "Get out of here. It will be all right. The man is offering you a chance to get away from this. Jump at it. Do like he says, ditch the gun and get the hell out of here. Now!"

For Steve, it was as if he'd been handed a gift from God. _If we can get the kid out of here, I can handle the rest, _Steve thought to himself.

Joey lowered Mike's gun and looked at it in his hand. He walked backward to the door, turned and ran out. The three men remaining in the room heard a clunk and figured correctly that Joey had tossed the gun on the floor before running from the building.

Exhaling, Steve studied Eric as he switched his gun sites to the young man. "You did the right thing, Eric."

"You were right. He didn't deserve this. I didn't either, but it's too late for me now."

"You'll need a good attorney, that's for sure," Steve was commenting as he walked over to the two men.

Suddenly, Steve realized that he had a logistical problem. He had one good arm and needed it to keep a gun on Eric. But he also needed to free his partner. "Eric, grab the Lieutenant's keys there and unlock the cuffs. Then go and stand with your hands against the wall. Stay away from the other gun."

Eric did as he was told. The keys were near Mike's legs. Eric grabbed them and unlocked the cuffs. Immediately, Eric walked over to the wall and put his hands up against it.

Steve walked over to Mike as the older detective was removing the cuffs from his hands. He smirked at the gag hanging out of his partner's mouth, but dared not give up the gun in his hand to provide assistance.

"Back-ups should be here by now," Steve remarked. "I chased the other suspect down to a patrol car. I guess the lady at the cash register must have called in. I told the patrolmen where I was headed. They were trying to get the other suspect sorted out."

"Arrested?" Mike asked as he yanked the handkerchief out of his mouth.

"I believe he's dead. He opened fire on their squad car". Mike listened, but was struggling as he got up.

"Here, hold this." Steve placed his gun in Mike's right hand as he reached down with his one good arm to help the man stand. Mike groaned as his ribs were giving him fits. "What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"Nothing that a good night sleep won't fix," Mike replied with typical machismo.

"Looks worse than that. And your face - did he hit you?" Steve asked as he saw the blood.

"Kicked me. It's nothing. What about you? You've been hit." Mike noted as he looked at the wound in Steve's left arm. The fatigue was apparent in the young officer's eyes.

"Just a crease," Steve said with a wink. It was a line he had used with Mike before.

"Just a crease, huh? Looks like another one of your jackets has been ruined," Mike kidded. Turning serious, Mike added, "We're going to need to talk about that little stunt you pulled with Joey."

"We'll add that to our list of topics to discuss later, okay?" Steve replied with a smile. "I'll cuff Eric while you hold the gun."

Steve moved slowly over to Eric as Mike leaned back against the wall for support. He cast a worried look his partner's way. Nevertheless, just short of a minute later, the detective had cuffed, Mirandized and began escorting his prisoner to the door with Mike following closely behind.

They heard footsteps approaching, but both men thought it would be their uniformed back-ups. Suddenly the door opened and Wang Tao and another man sprung forward and opened fire.

Bullets sprayed in the room. Steve realized immediately what was happening. "Get down," he yelled to Eric and Mike. Eric fell backward onto Steve. Out of reflex, Steve reached back to Mike and tried to shove his partner out of the way. The young man felt pangs of pain in assorted areas of his body, but nothing burned or made him stagger like the earlier bullet he took to his arm. Instead, he felt numb while his vision became blurry. As he fell to the floor, his right arm was still in direct contact with Mike and his last conscious thought was one of hope that his partner had escaped the bullets.


	21. Act 6, Part 4: The Long Day

**Departure**

Act 6, part 4: The Long Day

* * *

It happened in slow motion. Wang Tao rounded the corner, raised a .22 caliber pistol at the trio and fired. Only feet behind, Chin Wu entered and did the same.

Since Eric Hammer was in front, he caught the majority of gunfire. The first shot hit him in the forehead just over the bridge of his nose. His eyes flew open in shock and then remained open as he fell backward. The next several rounds hit him in the chest; each impact jerked his body. At close range, some of the shots went through the young man, entering the front and exiting somewhere out his back. Blood splattered everything around him.

As he reached back for his partner, Steve felt a searing pain in his shoulder and then felt hot prods in his chest and leg. Mike grabbed him by the arm while managing to discharge a couple of rounds at their attackers. As he continued to fall, Steve felt something hit his head which knocked him senseless.

The gunmen adjusted their aim in response to Mike's efforts and pulled back momentarily. The senior detective tried in earnest to pull his partner away from the line of fire, but lost his own balance in the process and slammed into the wall. Mike gasped as his ribs were further injured. The pain was so numbing, he dropped Steve's gun.

Suddenly, the shooting stopped. Tao and Wu, with their weapons trained on Mike, approached the detective.

"Magnusson." Tao stated matter of factly.

Immediately, Mike realized that Tao and Wu thought he and Steve were part of the original hit team against the Dragons.

"Magnusson is over there, dead. I'm Lieutenant Stone, San Francisco PD," Mike angrily replied.

Tao looked over to Wu and said something in his native tongue. The pair peered at the two men lying motionless and bloodied on the floor. "Cops, too?"

"One. The other is a man we arrested for the shooting at the restaurant."

Wu noticed that Hammer's hands were not visible at that angle. He wedged a foot under Hammer and levered him onto his stomach. The handcuffs were revealed.

Again Tao and Wu spoke in their native tongue, as Mike studied his partner for a sign of life. He saw Hammer's eyes opened and realized that the man died instantly, probably from the first bullet to the forehead. Steve's eyes were closed and his arm was lying in an unnatural angle. Blood soaked his head, side of his face and covered nearly every inch of his body from his shoulders to his thighs.

Mike swallowed hard at the sight. "Let me see what I can do for him," he requested as he gingerly tried to stand, but the pain in his midsection held him back. Steve's condition was unknown, but it was apparent that Tao and Wu had given him up for dead. Mike anticipated that Tao would simply shoot him in order to leave no witnesses.

At that point, the trio heard police enter the building. Tao reached down and pulled Mike to his feet. The pain was still staggering, but no longer really registered with the detective. "You are coming with us."

Mike looked over to his partner and Hammer. "Just let help get to them."

"We're not worried about them. Looks like it's too late anyway. You are our ticket out of here. Come on."

Tao yanked Mike through the door. The detective took one last look at his partner, then said a silent prayer that aide would not be too late.

* * *

Tao held his pistol tightly against Mike's back. "Let's go down this hallway away from the cops. We'll find a way out of here," Wu urged.

The pair pushed Mike forward as they tried to make a clean get away. Mike figured they were completely surrounded by now, but the trio continued their way to the opposite side of the building. He could hear reinforcements ahead of them as well as the sounds of police behind them.

He heard Sergeant Briscoe, a long time uniformed colleague and friend, breaking the door in behind them and yelling orders. "Stone? Keller? You in here?"

Stone wanted to respond, but Tao further pressed the gun into the small of his back. "You say one word, you die. Understand?" Mike nodded his head.

"Stone? Keller?" Briscoe repeated. After a moment, Briscoe conceded. "Damn, we heard at least a half dozen rounds go off just a few minutes ago, maybe more. Let's do a sweep in each room. Be careful, boys. The shooters could still be in here." Two pairs of patrolmen, each wearing bulletproof jackets began searching the rooms.

Tao, Wu and Mike made it to the other side of the building which faced another street. Wu checked to see where the police were and found a couple of black and white units parked in front of them. Again, he conversed with Tao quietly in their native tongue.

Mike wished he understood what they were planning. Suddenly, Mike heard Briscoe yell. "Damn it! We've got three bodies in the side room here."

"Our guys?" he heard one of the other officers ask.

"Definitely not Stone, but one of the victims looks like Keller. Look, the area between the room and the door is clear. Let's get a wagon over here. The one is definitely dead. I'm not seeing any signs of life in there, but if there's a chance the other two are alive we need to get them out of here," Briscoe ordered.

Mike was both relieved and terrified at Briscoe's words. While it didn't look good for Steve, at least help was on the way.

Tao put the gun up to Mike's temple. One of the police units was close to the door. The pair figured they could get to the patrol car and drive off with their hostage.

"Okay, Stone. You're a popular guy, you know that? I'm counting on your guys wanting you to remain alive. You and I are going to get into the back seat of that police car, see? My friend here is going to get in the driver's seat and we'll be on our way." Tao then turned to Wu, "You can hotwire, right, man?"

"Yeah," Wu replied.

The door opened and the nearby police officers saw Mike followed by two men. They understood what was going on. Mike looked around and saw Bill Tanner standing behind an unmarked car, concern etched on his face. Bill nodded to his boss and then raised his gun.

"Hold it!" Bill yelled. "Police. You are surrounded, so drop your weapons. You won't get out of here." It was a futile attempt, but Bill had to follow protocol.

"We have your Lieutenant. You let us go and then we'll release him when we're in the clear. We have no argument with him."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," replied Tanner.

"We'll plug him right here, then," Tao challenged.

"You do that, and it will be the last thing you do. Give yourself up now. It will be much easier on you if you do it now than adding on a kidnapping and resisting arrest charge."

Tao ignored Tanner and whispered to Wu. "Get in the car and let's go."

Mike knew that if he were to go with them, it would be the last time anyone would see him alive. Mike turned and caught Tanner's eye. He mouthed the word "Three".

On 'three', Mike dove to the ground leaving his two captors standing vulnerably by the car. The pain associated with a third fall with his busted ribs was insurmountable. Mike gasped and had difficulty breathing.

In the meantime, Tanner and his team opened fire. Only seconds later, the police car remained unoccupied with its drivers side glass shattered and its doors and fenders bullet ridden. Mike lay on the ground groaning while Tao and Wu lay feet away, ostensibly the next two bodies headed to the morgue.

Tanner ran over to Mike. "Get an ambulance!" he yelled seeing his boss in extreme discomfort and unable to speak.

"S-Steve…I need to see him. Need to know if he's alive." Mike was trying to sit up, but the pain was too much. He had his arms wrapped around his midsection trying to get relief.

"Mike, you are in no condition to go anywhere. I'll find out about Steve, okay? He's probably on the other side of the building waiting for you." Tanner tried to reassure his boss.

"No, he was…shot. I think they got him several times. Covered in blood. It was bad. Real bad. He wasn't moving. He may be…" Mike couldn't finish his thought.

"He's not dead. I won't accept that." Tanner urged as he lay a calming hand on Mike's shoulder.

Mike turned pale. He remembered the last look he had of Steve - still, pale and lying in an unnatural position. A small voice told him that the worst had indeed happened. But Mike needed to see his partner and dear friend one more time. "Help me up, Bill. I need to get to him," Mike said as he was trying once more to stand.

Bill shook his head. "Mike, the ambulance will be here and it will take you to the hospital. You'll be in the same ER. I'll find out where Steve is. I promise."

"He could still be in that damn room for all I know. Briscoe found them, but I don't know if an ambulance got here or not. If he's still in there, he's probably…probably gone." Mike was nearly distraught.

"Mike, look…" Bill tried to reason with his boss. "Let me get you in my car. We'll ride around front and find out what's going on. Then, no matter what, I'm taking you to the hospital."

The older detective nodded in agreement. "Help me up."

Tanner obliged. He carefully wrapped his arms around his chest and lifted.

As he rose, Mike became dizzy and his world started turning grey. "Mike….Mike," Tanner called out. Mike lost consciousness as he slid back to the ground.


	22. Act 6, Part 5: The Long Day

**Departure**

Act 6, Part 5: The Long Day

* * *

St. John's Emergency Room was bustling for a Monday afternoon. Jeannie walked through the sliding door looking momentarily lost. Bill Tanner recognized the young woman immediately and called out to her.

"Jeannie, I'm glad you are here. I hope I didn't scare you when I called," Bill said as he walked towards her, hand extended. "Your dad is going to be fine. He just has some busted ribs. We're not sure if they are cracked or broken, but whatever the case, he should be fine."

"Bill, how did this happen?" Jeannie's blue eyes reflected some relief as she heard Bill's message of reassurance.

"Your father and Steve went to question someone for a murder case they were working on. Unfortunately, it appears that their suspect was a target for a revenge hit at that same time." Bill glanced down as he knew Jeannie's curious nature would not let that concise answer go.

Jeannie knew from the start that something else was going on. If her father had been hurt only mildly, she would have expected Mike to make the call himself, if not at all. At worst, she would have expected a phone call from Steve. Steve…

"Where's Steve?" Jeannie asked with a tremor in her voice.

Bill rested a hand on her shoulder. "That's what I'm trying to find out. He was brought in earlier with two others, but no one here seems to know about it. I don't understand it. I've called back to the station and told them to find out where the first ambulance went. Clearly, it wasn't here," Bill said as he looked around and saw several occupied ER rooms.

"So you don't know where he is or how bad Steve's injuries really are?"

"Jeannie, I don't know anything right now. Your father said Steve had been shot, but they had been separated. I don't know his condition. I'm going to wait here by the phone and hopefully I will hear something soon. Your father is understandably quite upset over this. I don't want to go back in without something definitive for him."

"But we know Steve's alive, right?"

Bill's grimace betrayed his attempt to put on a brave front.

"Bill? What are you saying?"

"I'm sorry, Jeannie. All we know was that Steve was one of three men transported in an ambulance. Beyond that, we don't know."

Jeannie swallowed and then took a deep sigh. "What about Mike? No wonder he's worried sick."

"Yes, they just wheeled him back from x-ray and the ER doctor was with him. It shouldn't be too long. The Doc said he'd come and get us when they were ready with Mike. Hopefully by then we'll have some news - good news - on Steve."

About fifteen minutes later, the ER doctor greeted Bill and Jeannie.

"I'm Doctor Rooney. Are you family of Mr. Stone?"

"This is his daughter, Jeannie. I'm Bill Tanner, I work for Mike."

"How is he, Doctor Rooney?" Jeannie asked.

"Your father will be fine. He has one broken rib and two others were cracked. He tells me he was struck with a crowbar and then fell at least twice. His injuries are consistent with what you'd expect from that event. He also has a bruised jaw and a laceration just below his cheek from a blow he took to the face. Aside from that, his blood pressure is high. We're going to keep him overnight and monitor him just to be safe. All-in-all, he'll make a full recovery and should be able to go home tomorrow."

"Well, that's good news, Doctor, thank you." The relief in Bill's voice was genuine.

"They'll be moving him to a room 329 shortly, but you can go in and see him now," the doctor instructed. "Oh, there is one more thing. The Lieutenant keeps asking after his partner. Do you know anything about this?"

"Yes, Steve Keller…" Bill was interrupted by the lobby receptionist.

"Detective Tanner, phone call."

Bill ran over to the phone. Jeannie explained about the phone call and the doctor excused himself. The young woman turned and slowly walked over to where Bill was taking the call.

"Tanner…yeah, Lessing. What do you know?" Bill had grabbed a random pen from the counter and started tapping. The receptionist looked up and Bill abruptly stopped.

Tanner turned and saw Jeannie standing beside him. He met Jeannie's inquiry look with a nod and continued his discussion with Lessing. "Did they give any indication concerning his condition?…..oh, I see. Do we even know if….Okay, Mike won't like this. He's out of his mind right now with worry….Okay, thanks, Lee. Where are you headed? Got it…okay. I'll see you over there as soon as I talk to Mike."

Tanner hung up the phone and sighed.

"Well?" Jeannie pressed.

"Steve's at Bay General. Both hospitals are about the same distance from where they were. Steve's ambulance went over to Bay and your dad's came here. No word on Steve's condition."

"Will they confirm he's alive?"

"Not over the phone. Lee Lessing is heading over there. Let's go tell your dad the latest."

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know? How can this be?" Mike barked at Tanner and began venting his frustration.

"Mike, Lee is on his way over to Bay General now. I'll meet him over there and then one of us will come back with the latest news. The doc said you will be getting settled in Room 329," Bill quickly thought of mentioning he'd call, but decided that if the news was bad, he deliver the news in person. If the news was good, he would likely make the call to save Mike from any more extended time of worry. "You'll stay with him, right, Jeannie?"

Jeannie nodded as Mike started to protest, Quickly, he realized there was nothing that any of them could do. "Okay, Bill. Let me know. No matter what, just let me know," Mike said quietly. Tanner left the room.

Jeannie reached over and grabbed Mike by the hand. "Mike, it will be all right. I know it will," she said bravely.

Mike looked down. "We walked straight into a battlefield. It was bad, but I thought we got through the worst of it. We had our suspect and were leaving the premises when these two opened fire."

"My goodness, Mike."

Mike's eyes began to water.

"Mike, what is it?"

"He got the job offer today from Berkeley. He said that we'd talk about it later," Mike voice began to quiver. "Later…"

Jeannie wrapped her arms around her father. "Oh, Daddy…"


	23. Act 6, Part 6: The Long Day

**Departure**

Act 6, Part 6: The Long Day

* * *

The room was painted a calm blue and had an eastern exposure overlooking the Bay. Just after the orderlies left and his ward nurse checked in, Mike was settled into his bed and simply waited. Jeannie sat in the chair near his bed, lost in her own thoughts.

"If Steve was okay, Bill would call," Mike concluded quietly, breaking the silence.

"Not knowing is hard. But we have to keep thinking positively" Jeannie tried to convince herself. "Where was he hit?"

"Initially, he was shot in the arm. Left, if memory serves. Yes, that is correct," as he re-enacted the scene in his mind. "He still had his gun in right hand and was very much in control of the situation with the suspect. It wasn't a bad wound. But then with the last blast of gunfire, there was so much blood from both him and the other….," Mike swallowed hard at the memory. "I just couldn't tell where he was hit or how badly."

The ringing telephone startled them both. "Jeannie, hand it to me."

Jeannie obeyed and Mike quickly grabbed the receiver from her hand. "Stone," was his simple greeting.

"Mike, it's Bill. It's not much, but at least it's a start. He's alive and he's in surgery. The ER doctor here said that he had multiple gunshot wounds with moderate to significant blood loss. He said they rushed him to OR as soon as he got here."

"Okay," Mike replied with a deep breath. His relief that his partner was still alive became quickly obvious to Jeannie. She reached over and squeezed her father's arm.

"How long has he been in surgery?" Mike inquired. Jeannie couldn't understand Bill's words on the other end of the line, but anything was better than what she had been prepared to hear. "Bill, let me know as soon as you hear anything. Please….No, I'm fine. I'd rather you stay there for Steve."

Mike hung up the phone and bowed his head for a moment. "Rudy, Lenny, Healy, Lessing and Bill. They're all over there. I just wish I could be there with them."

"I understand. But you need to take care of yourself. You've been hurt and they know you'll be there when you can. With the crew over there, Steve has many people pulling for him."

"As soon as I'm discharged, maybe earlier, I'm heading over to Bay General," Mike vowed. "Why don't you go over to there now, sweetheart, and call me with any news?"

As much as Jeannie wanted to be there when Steve came out of surgery, the thought of Mike being alone while the rest of his team was at the other hospital simply made her sad. "I don't want to leave you alone, Mike. We'll keep in touch with your men over there."

Mike was not disappointed that she wanted to stay. He didn't want to be alone. He was taken aback by how strong she had been through this. _Just like her mother. _He couldn't help but give a small smile.

* * *

Hours went by. The detectives took turns calling Mike every thirty minutes and while he continued to worry about his partner, the calls did much to boost his mood.

At the end of the evening, Captain Rudy Olsen appeared in Mike's room. The older men worked together for more than twenty years and had developed a deep friendship. Nevertheless, his sudden appearance made both the father and daughter nervous.

"Mike, how are you feeling?" the slim, white haired detective inquired. He cast a quick nod toward Jeannie.

"I'm fine, Rudy. What can you tell me about Steve?" Mike asked rather impatiently.

"He's lucky to be alive, for one thing. But he's got a good chance of pulling through this, Mike."

"A good chance?"

"He was such a mess when they brought him in, the ER doctor couldn't tell where all of the wounds were. It wasn't until they had him completely cleaned up that they could tell the extent of the damage."

"Will he recover?"

"He has multiple injuries. Ballistics is doing a check right now, but there were at least two different calibers removed. Two of the gunshots were direct hits. The worse of the two was in his left arm. The bullet was lodged against the bone in his upper arm. There was some muscle damage and a chipped bone there."

"And?"

"The other bullet was lodged near his right shoulder blade. The bullet itself was not a problem. Clearly, it was a smaller caliber than the first. However, apparently when he fell, his shoulder was knocked out of his socket. So they reset the dislocation and removed the bullet."

"So both arms are out of commission?"

"Yes, but not for long. The left arm should heal up quickly. However, his shoulder will need to be immobilized for a while."

"What else, Rudy? Why do I have the feeling that there's more?"

The captain sighed. "The surgeon removed three other bullets."

Jeannie gasped at the news. The worried look on Mike's face surpassed anything Rudy had seen before.

"According to the doc, the three other wounds were different in nature from the other two. The three bullets were all spent."

"What does that mean?" Jeannie asked nervously.

Mike turned to his daughter. "A spent bullet is one that is slowing down to where it doesn't do as much damage as one that was fired at close range."

"Yes," Rudy agreed. "From what I understand from the ER and police reports, the shots passed through the individual standing in front of Steve. I believe that was Eric Hammer."

A lump formed in Mike's throat as he processed the information.

Rudy continued. "Additionally, those bullets were smaller caliber just like the shoulder injury. They said that's what saved him. One hit his upper thigh and another hit his chest. The thigh injury was not bad at all. The bullet was not far in and they were able to remove it quickly. The chest wound was trickier because it hit and broke a rib. He's lucky the lung wasn't punctured."

"That means there's one more." Mike was bracing for worse news.

"The last one hit his skull, Mike."

"Oh, no," Jeannie whimpered. Mike grabbed her hand.

"Now, hold on Jeannie. Like I said when I first came out here, he's lucky to be alive. That bullet was nearly spent as well. It cracked his skull and he has a hairline fracture, but the bullet did not penetrate beyond that. Nevertheless, there was profuse bleeding from this wound in particular. So far, there's no swelling or complications, but they are keeping a watchful eye on that. The doc said he'll have a doozey of a headache over the next few days, but there should be no lasting damage."

"Is that all?" Mike asked somewhat sarcastically.

"Well, it was certainly enough." Rudy said solemnly as he shook his head.

"Rudy, is he going to make it?" Mike asked again for reassurance.

"The doc said that individually, the wounds were not bad. No major arteries or organs were hit. But the accumulated impact of the wounds is substantial and he lost a lot of blood. He's in serious condition and will be in the hospital for a while."

"But they expect him to recover?" Jeannie pressed.

"For the skinny kid that he is, he's as strong as an ox. The docs are trying to be cautious, but he's got a very good chance at a full recovery."

"When will we be able to see him?" Jeannie asked.

"It depends on how he does tonight. He may be able to have visitors as soon as tomorrow."

"I'll come by as soon as I am discharged," Mike announced.

"I wouldn't have expecting anything else," Rudy smiled. "Steve will be fine tonight. I sent the boys home. It's been a helluva a long day and they need their rest."

Rudy took a step back and realized that his two friends were exhausted. "And speaking of rest, I think you both could use some, too. Jeannie, may I drive you home or at least walk to you to your car?"

"That's a good idea, Rudy. Thanks," Mike preemptively struck down Jeannie's anticipated protest. He knew that if allowed, she would stay with him all night.

"I'd be happy for the escort to the car, Rudy," Jeannie conceded. "Thanks."

To her father, Jeannie instructed, "Okay, Mike, you take it easy, too. Remember, Steve's alive and he's made it through surgery. And you'll get to see him tomorrow. If you need anything, you let the night nurse know, okay? I'll bring by some clothes for tomorrow."

"Okay, Sweetheart. Hey, and maybe you can call Connie and Irene in the morning. Let them know what happened."

"Sure, Mike." Jeannie reached over and gave her father a hug goodnight. Rudy patted the man on the shoulder and also bid him well.

Jeannie got into her car after thanking Rudy for the escort. Rudy waited for her to start the car and drive off. She thought about going home, but dismissed the notion rather quickly. Instead, she headed over to Bay General. She couldn't explain it, but she would simply feel better knowing that Steve was nearby. She figured she would catch some sleep on the ICU waiting room sofa.


	24. Act 7, Part 1: A New Beginning

**Departure**

Act 7, Part 1: A New Beginning

* * *

The dream had been vivid and frightening. Steve woke with a jolt as the gun pointed at him discharged. When he slowly came to his senses, he remembered to open his eyes and found his vision was quite blurry. _Not surprising_, he thought, considering the throbbing pain in his head. The memory of the nightmare suddenly escaped as the young man came out of his fog.

Steve found himself in tight quarters, surrounded by curtains. There were no windows and it was dark, save for a small overhead light at the head of his bed. He heard blips from machines and then noticed shadows of monitors and tubes. With no concept of place or time, his sense of disorientation heightened.

He realized he wasn't flat on his back, but instead somewhat elevated. He couldn't begin to move his right arm at all. As a matter of fact, it appeared to be severely restrained. His left arm simply felt heavy, but at least he could move his fingers. Someone had ostensibly replaced his legs with lead weights, and when he attempted to bend his left knee, the pain took away what little breath he had.

_What happened?_ He retraced the events of the prior day: his restless night's sleep, receiving an offer to teach from Berkeley and the trip to Jimmy's Café.

_The Café_, Steve thought. He remembered finding a body in a small office in the back of the café. The vision of the partially blown off head reminded him that he would never become accustomed to the gore that often came with his job. Mike had told him on earlier occasions to consider himself lucky: desensitization was a bad thing for a cop.

_Mike…_

He remembered running down an alleyway, giving chase to a man who opened fire on a patrol car. After the suspect was brought down, Steve began thinking about his partner whom he knew was in peril. It had been a strong gut feeling. He ran into the building where they had earlier parted ways in an attempt to find him.

_Mike…_ He saw him cuffed and bound to some sort of a heater with a scared teenaged boy facing him. The boy had a gun. Mike's gun.

But they had escaped that situation relatively unscathed, hadn't they? After a while, Steve remembered seeing the boy leave and them arresting another man. He remembered the pain in his left arm after Magnusson pulled the trigger. It was throbbing, but he could still function. Certainly, it was nothing that would have resulted in how wretched and weak he felt now.

Then it came to him, a flash scene where two men walked into the door and opened fire. He remembered burning pain all throughout his body. He remembered Mike. He was right behind him. _Mike…_

Panic began to overtake the young detective. _Had Mike been killed? God, please no!_

* * *

A kindly ICU nurse opened the curtained area which provided much needed light. Steve's widened terror-stricken eyes diminished to a squint. "Mr. Keller, it's good to see you finally awake. Your blood pressure and heart monitors are going off like the Fourth of July. How are you feeling?"

His head was pounding and every inch of his body was screaming. Steve responded with a groan. The nurse noted the expression of pain in his face and checked the clock on the wall. Just past three in the morning.

"Well, it looks like you are due your next batch of pain meds. I'll let the doctor know you are awake and we'll get you your next dose in the meantime."

"Mike…" he whispered.

"No one is here, sweetheart. It's the middle of the night. I think everyone was sent home last night by your captain." The nurse had heard the young man was brought in with two others who were pronounced 'dead on arrival'. Now wasn't the time to discuss the two dead men or whether 'Mike' was one of them.

"Mike…" he whispered again.

"Take it easy, sweetie. I'll be right back with the ICU doctor and your pain medication." The nurse lightly patted his uninjured leg.

Minutes later, with a new dose of pain relief administered, Steve fell back into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_If I ever wanted to slow down time, all I need to do is stay in a hospital waiting room, _Jeannie thought wryly. Seven thirty in the morning took an eternity to arrive. The young woman tossed and turned on an uncomfortable vinyl couch throughout most of the night. A few times she sat up and tried to read, but then became tired again.

There were others in the large waiting room who were in a similar situation. She exchanged small talk to help pass the time. It helped her not to feel so alone. In this instance, misery loved company. Sometime during the night, a nurse had brought out blankets, and for that, Jeannie and the others were grateful.

Finally, there was no further point in trying to get any rest. The young woman got up, returned her blanket and asked for an update on her friend. Hearing there was no change to his condition, Jeannie walked over to the ladies room to freshen up.

Thinking that her father was in worse shape than he really was, Jeannie initially assumed she would stay the night at St. Johns. Before she left home, she had grabbed a cosmetic bag and filled it with a few things to keep her fresh. Unfortunately, she learned by experience that waiting in a hospital could be a time consuming proposition.

Jeannie combed her hair, washed her face and hands, and then reapplied her make up. With a sprits of light perfume, she felt human again.

"When may I see him?" she inquired as she returned to the nurses station.

"Let me talk to the doctor. He should be here mid-morning for his rounds," the ICU nurse kindly replied. "Why don't you go get some breakfast or some coffee in the meantime?"

"Thank you." Jeannie chose not be annoyed with the continued wait. She was happy to know that Steve made it through the night and that she might be get to see him.

* * *

Nearly two and half hours later, Jeannie was escorted to Steve's partitioned area. She moved the curtain back to catch a glimpse of the young detective.

The sterile white sheets, curtains and bandages, coupled with several monitoring devices, were in stark contrast to the very human form which lie in front of her. She walked quietly over to him and scooted a folding chair to his side.

Jeannie took an inventory of his condition and injuries. With the exception of the dark circles beneath his eyes, his face was pale to the point of translucency. She knew he had lost considerable blood and was not surprised to see he was mid-transfusion. The bag of dark red blood was hooked to his IV pole along with bags of preventive antibiotic and saline solution to keep him hydrated.

Jeannie felt most uneasy to see the random spots of dried blood on his skin and in his hair. While the hospital clean him up for treatment, it was clear that they had missed a few areas. The young woman wondered how bad he must have been for the staff to get him as presentable as he was.

A swath of bandages encircled his head. His right arm and shoulder was uncomfortably in traction. His left arm was in a sling across his chest. She could see another bandage from the chest wound. A catheter tube drained near the bottom of the bed. A sheet and a heavy blanket covered the rest of his body. He seemed to be peacefully sleeping and Jeannie prayed that he was pain free.

She sat back and closed her eyes. Steve had many close calls in the years he worked in Homicide, but the events of the prior day had been the nearest he'd come to losing his life on the job. She thought of the work that he did, along with her father. The three had become family and she worried about them both. Sometimes she wished her father would retire or Steve would find another job in a less dangerous profession. She loved her father and cared deeply about his partner.

In her heart, she knew it was more than caring. Much more. But that was all it was ever allowed to be. Often, she heard Mike mutter "no cops" when he felt she was flirting with Steve just a little too much. Not only was Steve a cop, but he was her dad's partner. That was synonymous with "off limits". And try as she might to trick her emotions into ignoring her feelings for Steve, it didn't always work.

In the early going, Steve had been nothing but professional in their interactions. In recent years, however, they had developed a deep friendship. If allowed, the pair could talk for hours and both made each other laugh. Their common bond was initially Mike, but they also had the same idealistic outlook on life. And they both cared. After all, Steve was a public servant and Jeannie was a recent college graduate with degrees in sociology and community planning.

"Oh, babe…" she said as she leaned forward and rested her hand on his. The coolness of his skin surprised her and she subconsciously stroked his hand to give it warmth. "If I live to be one hundred, there'll never be another one like you. You have left such an indelible mark on me." She squeezed his hand again. "And you've touched dad, too, in so many ways. It's been you, Mike and me - just the three of us for so long."

She bowed her head and missed the fluttering of Steve's eyes.

* * *

He was still somewhat disoriented, but at least remembered he was in the hospital. He heard a voice. It was a sweet voice uttering words that seemed tinged with sadness. _You, Mike and me - just the three of us… _He could feel a soft warm hand holding his and then his thoughts flashed back to his partner.

_You, Mike and me.._.Mike.

Steve opened his eyes to see a bowed head of dark blonde hair. While his vision was still a little blurry, he picked up on the scent of a light floral perfume. _Jeannie…_ He loved her perfume, but would never be so forward as to say that to his partner's daughter. He tried to move his fingers or squeeze her hand. His throat was so dry that he was unsure what would come out if he attempted to speak.

She heard a small moan and looked up just as she was feeling the movement of his fingers. He looked into her eyes and saw worry and concern, as well as a few tears.

"Jean…" he whispered. And then he began thinking of why she was there - and why it was that someone else wasn't there. It was all coming back to him. _I can't face Jeannie. Not with Mike…. Oh, Lord no…_

"Babe, welcome back," she said with a small, tearful smile. She could feel a slight tremor in his hand.

"I'm…sorry," Steve whispered. "Jean…so…sorry."

The young woman was confused. "Steve, why? You're going to be fine."

"Mike…" Steve trembled. "Sor-ry."

"No, babe. You're going to be okay and so is he."

"So much…gunfire. Couldn't stop." His voice was cracking.

"No, honey, listen to me: Mike's fine. He's in the hospital, but he's going to be okay. He wasn't even shot. He just broke a couple of ribs." Jeannie cupped his face in her hands. "Do you understand me?"

Steve stared back at her and clearly had a hard time processing what she was saying.

"Sure?" Steve choked out.

"Babe, do you think I could sit here with a smile on my face if he wasn't okay?"

"I see…tears."

"I've been worried. It was a long night." She placed her hands back around his left hand. "Hon, you're so cold."

"Sorry." He was indeed shivering.

"Steve, no more apologies, okay?" Jeannie chuckled.

"Okay."

"And no more worrying about Mike. He's tough - just like you. You know, it would take more than a couple of broken ribs…" Jeannie began.

"To take me down!" a familiar and concerned voice made himself heard.

"Mike!" Jeannie quickly turned and started to grab her father in a hug.

"No, sweetheart. No hugs for me. The ribs are still sore."

"How did you get here?" Jeannie asked as she retreated.

"I called Lenny at the crack of dawn and hounded him until he got me discharged. I couldn't take it anymore." Mike gazed over to Steve. The weak smile from his partner's pale and fatigued face touched him deeply. "I knew where I needed to be."


	25. Act 7, Part 2: A New Beginning

_a/n - I wanted to get another chapter out before I left on break. After a prolonged 'maim' (some of you have been a very bad influence on me - LOL), I wanted to move forward with the story around the decisions Steve is facing. Hope you enjoy. Will post again after holiday. Thanks for your continued support!_

_It's been a while since Mike narrated - he's back!_

* * *

**Departure**

Act 7, Part 2: A New Beginning

* * *

_The days after the shooting became a different type of busy. As much as I protested, Rudy would not hear of me coming in; not even to sit behind the desk. But Internal Affairs quickly became involved, which was standard procedure when an officer is shot in the line of duty. I was re-introduced to Glenn Decker, who came to my home to finish his investigation. He's a good man and he handled the entire case with the fairness and professionalism he demonstrated a few years back._

_Jeannie, Irene and I found ourselves making trips to Bay General, not that Steve was terribly aware of our presence. The early going of his recovery entailed heavy duty pain medication and lots of sleep. It wasn't until the third day that he was able to hold a sensible conversation. The good news was he had no further complications. He was just too damn weak. With the multiple injuries, it was difficult for him to make any headway in getting better. _

_As he became more alert, the pace of recovery was frustrating for him. With both of his arms immobilized, someone had to feed him. He hated that. Fortunately for him, he had a line of gorgeous female volunteers to help in the matter. Jeannie and Irene made arrangements to be with him at nearly every meal. Some of the secretaries down at the station, the nurses and even the candy stripers wanted a turn._

_Occasionally, Carolyn would be there for a meal, but not nearly as often as the other girls. It was quite obvious that Miss Carolyn was a bit squeamish and didn't like to be around hospitals or invalids. My observation of the two together was that there had been increased tension. I didn't know if that had to do with his pending convalescence or perhaps they weren't getting along. If I didn't know my partner better, I could have sworn that Steve was happier when she wasn't around._

_Steve also became frustrated with the idea that he couldn't move his arm to answer the phone. Professor Atwater tried to call him, but was unsuccessful in getting through. After reading about the shooting in the paper, the good Professor rang the station to check on Steve. One of the other detectives got his contact information and I returned the call. I had the distinct feeling that Atwater's call had nothing to do with whether Steve was accepting the job or if he would be fit to work. I do think the professor was genuinely concerned. That was a good sign._

_The fact was Steve hadn't yet accepted the job. He and I hadn't even spoken about it since before the shooting. I thought maybe he figured he had missed the opportunity because of his injuries. At some point soon, I knew we would need to discuss his future, whether it still was with the department or with Berkeley._

_As for my opinion, I decided the morning when I first saw him in the ICU ward at Bay General, that I was not going to hold him back. He definitely had my blessing for the Berkeley job. While I knew he had misgivings about shooting to kill and became concerned that he could put our lives endanger should he hesitate, his actions at the café and the aftermath demonstrated the he could overcame those issues. I was proud of him and I still believe we could have worked through any problems with Lenny's counsel._

_But there was something else. Within the last few weeks, I stepped back and took a good look at Steve - not as my partner, but as a dear friend. I guess what triggered it was his trip to Boston and learning more about his upbringing at the dinner party. Here was this young guy who experienced tragedy even before he was born, losing his father in the war. Years later, his mom dies as well. Although he had relatives to raise him, his childhood was, at best, bittersweet. Then, he grew up and landed a job where he sees the constant carnage of murder in Homicide. And then finally - this shooting, which nearly killed him. _

_That made me think of his grandfather and his parents. I'm thinking that if they were here, they'd want something better and less dangerous for him - something that might give him a shot of outliving his parents who both died in their thirties and maybe even making it to his grandfather's ripe old age. They aren't here, but I am. I feel like they would want me to encourage him elsewhere._

* * *

Mike walked the familiar path to the private room on the fifth floor. It had been five days since the shooting and the older detective decided it was high time his partner got back into a daily routine. The man carried a small duffle bag with pajamas and personal effects, as well as a small brown bag which held the young man's personal mail. Steve could be in the hospital as long as three weeks, so Jeannie and Irene decided they would look after his apartment.

Mike knocked quietly.

"Come in." While Steve looked better each day, he was still in traction with his shoulder, much to his chagrin. He greeted his friend with a smile.

"Well, aren't you looking better? How do you feel?" Mike noticed the bevy of get well flowers and plants which lined the window.

"I'll feel better once I can get out of the contraption. The doctor said that might happen either this afternoon or tomorrow."

"Hey, that's great. Who sent you these flowers?" The room smelled wonderful.

"Well, let's see. The plant is from you and Irene, thank you. Jeannie got the orange flowers, which are amazingly similar to the ones I got her a few weeks back. The mums are from Rudy and his secretary. And I think the big rubber plant is from the guys in the sqaudroom. The ones on the end I haven't seen the cards for yet."

"Probably from Carolyn, maybe?" Mike tried to be hopeful.

"Or not. I think she's kind of mad at me right now." Steve grinned slyly. "Leave it to me to get on her shit list for nearly dying."

"Well, now what?" Mike was typically intrigued by Steve's stories of his dating adventures. It wasn't that he was Don Juan or Valentino. It was that he kept hooking up with women who just seemed to have a screw loose somewhere.

"She's come by once or twice when there've been other visitors here. And I think she was just put off by that." Mike could tell Steve was understating the situation.

"Let me guess, the 'other visitors' were women and she was jealous." Mike played detective well.

"Got it in one." Steve thought quietly, _actually, the other visitor was Jean._

"Did she miss the fact that you were shot multiple times and nearly found out first hand about the afterlife?" Mike surprised himself with how casually he could talk about the tragedy that had nearly befallen them.

"She tends to miss the big picture quite often. It's always about 'who' I was talking to or 'what' I was doing when I should have been with her."

"I don't know what to tell you, Buddy boy. For as long as I've known you, you have had women troubles."

"Women troubles?" Steve smirked. "Well, you know how us men folk are. We're the devil." Steve's attention turned to the bags. "Hey, you brought me stuff?"

"Stuff. Yes, I brought you stuff. Some pajamas, shorts, a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and socks."

"Thanks, what's in the brown bag?"

"Your mail. The girls were cleaning your apartment…"

"Don't tell Carolyn…" Steve feigned exasperation.

Mike chuckled and continued. "and they had collected your mail. Some of it's junk and some of it looks like it's important." He rummaged through the bag until he found a large brown envelop postmarked from Boston. "This one in particular. It looks like it came from a law firm in Boston. Are you in trouble?"

Steve looked puzzled for a moment. "Nah, not that I know of." He squinted at the envelop which Mike held several feet away. "You know, you could open it."

"Okay, if you don't mind." Mike opened the envelope and pulled out document several pages thick. "Oh, it's regarding your grandfather's estate.

Steve's expression quickly went from amused to pensive when he heard about the estate.

"Steve, I'm sorry. We can do this another time if you like." Mike quickly began to put the envelope back in the bag.

"No, it's okay. I'd almost forgotten about this. Samantha, Grandpa's assistant, said I'd be getting a letter in the mail from the attorney at some point. The lawyer had been out of the country during the funeral."

"As long as you're all right with this."

"Sure, go ahead. What does it say?"

Mike scrolled down to what seemed to be the key paragraph. "According to this, your grandfather has left you his home in Cambridge and a trust fund in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars. It's to be used to further your education at Harvard. If you elect not to use it or the home, then the entire estate reverts to the University. There's a personal letter from him attached."

Steve could not hide the shock on his face. He didn't expect any of this. "Grandpa said he was going to take care of me, but I had no idea this is what he meant."

"Steve, my goodness. What a fantastic opportunity." The older man noticed a look of apprehension on his friend's face. His mind flashed forward to the idea of Steve leaving San Francisco, but decided to put that thought aside. He needed to be encouraging for his friend. "Things like this just don't happen every day. Are you okay? You're looking a little pale."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve choked. "Just a little shocked."


	26. Act 7, Part 3: A New Beginning

Departure

Act 7, Part 3: A New Beginning

* * *

Steve looked wearily around the familiar hospital room which was still filled with flowers, plants and well wishes. He gazed out the window, which had an all encompassing, nerve-grinding view of another hospital building. Finally, he glanced down the bed to the blankets that covered him. His right arm, still in a sling, was the remaining sign of his primary injuries. Indeed, he was feeling better but he was still quite weak. He shut his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

In the week since learning of his grandfather's bequest, a parade of visitors had come and gone. Quiet times were normally spent in exhaustion since the injured detective was denied a long sleep, courtesy of continued interruptions by various medical personnel. While most of his guests were there to provide emotional support during his hospital stay, a select few were aware of the decisions the young man faced and gave their feedback.

On the day Mike read the attorney's letter, the senior detective's immediate advice was to appreciate the opportunity and carefully consider all of the options. He simply wanted his prodigy to make the best informed decision he could so there'd be minimal regrets in the future. After that, Mike uncharacteristically backed off.

While he still came to see his Buddy boy daily, conversations around the young man's future were kept to a minimum. Instead, they talked about sports, new cases and just about anything else. While Mike understood that Steve had to make choices based on his own wants and needs, he quickly realized that those wants and needs didn't necessarily coincide with his.

Steve's most frequent visitor was Jeannie. She, too, stopped in daily and for that, Steve was immensely grateful. She was a breath of fresh air and her beauty reminded Steve of the flowers which adorned his room. As a recent college graduate herself, she relayed the positives and negatives of her experiences. But most importantly, she was there to listen to her friend as he tried to search for answers.

Clearly, he had doubts about his ability to perform in the same capacity he had during his partnership with Mike. He considered the teaching position with Berkeley and thought that was a reasonable alternative. But as Mike had pointed out earlier, much to Steve's chagrin at the time, what would Berkeley want with someone so inexperienced? Now, nearly two weeks since the initial offer was made by Professor Atwater, Steve was reaching the same conclusion. How much would Steve really be able to contribute and was there a sense of diminishing return the longer he stayed teaching?

The Harvard option was a gold mine of opportunity and Steve knew it. If he were to have a career in a District Attorney's office, perhaps this would be the chance for him to get the law degree. Additional with Boston, he could take time to retrace his grandfather's steps and learn more about his mother and her family in the process. His grandfather's assistant, Samantha Morris, had gone so far as to contact Steve and relay that he had the support of Professor McGivern's colleagues.

In fact, those same colleagues had sweetened the offer by suggesting that Steve consider writing an update to his grandfather's earlier works on the Marshall Plan. That thought humbled and intrigued him. It would indeed be his honor to provide such an update and one that he would take very seriously. When he shared the news with Jeannie, she was genuinely happy for her friend. Deep down, she knew that he was close to making a decision. While she knew that Steve leaving for Boston was possible, she hoped and prayed for a miracle opportunity that he would cause him to stay in San Francisco.

* * *

Two other visitors added perspective during this time. The first was Joey Morgan. Despite Steve allowing Joey to leave during the altercation with Eric Hammer and Sam Magnusson, it was procedure for Mike and the other officers to investigate just what Joey did for the Hammer brothers and how that played into Magnusson and Olssen's battle with the Red Dragons.

While Mike could have pressed for further charges against the youth, he instead met with the boy's mother and realized that a better alternative would be counseling. For that, Mrs. Morgan was grateful. The loss of her oldest son during the war had been devastating. She realized she had become perilously close to losing another son. For had Steve not allowed her son to leave when he did, the boy would have likely been killed along with Eric Hammer.

The pair's visit with the bedridden detective did much to lift everyone's spirits. Joey and his mother thanked Steve for everything he did and also expressed their regret that he had been so badly injured. Joey talked about finishing high school and joining the service or perhaps the police force. Steve was simply relieved that the boy had made it out of the building alive and could look forward to his second chance. For once, his reluctance in aggressively pursuing someone so innocent looking turned out well. If things could end on a high note such as this, all the better.

It was the second visitor who turned out to be Steve's true lifeline: Dr. Lenny Murchison. Lenny had kept tabs on Steve ever since the Davies shooting years earlier. He counseled the young officer after the shooting, but observed that there had been a regret from deep within that was still unresolved. Knowing that Steve now had other offers, Lenny wanted to provide his support and encouragement.

Indeed, Lenny had an idea of his own…

* * *

On his most recent visit, Lenny made sure that he and Steve were left alone for a while. He had talked to Mike and knew the senior partner would not be over until later that day. He also made arrangements with the hospital staff to stay clear for a half hour. He quietly entered the room and caught the man gazing out the window with a pensive look on his face.

"Steve, I know you must be anxious to get out of here," the doctor began.

"Truer words were never spoken, Lenny." Steve responded quietly. The pensive expression remained after a quick smile.

"Made any decisions yet?" Lenny was never known for beating around the bush and wanted to get to the heart of the matter quickly.

"About the job?" Steve sighed. "Yeah, I'm going to resign as soon as I can write the letter." Steve glanced at his still restrained right arm and let out a small chuckle.

"Okay, then." Lenny was not surprised. "Tell me about your future. I know all about what you are leaving behind. Now tell me what are you going toward."

Steve hesitated. "Boston," he answered quietly. Steve wondered if it was this hard to tell Lenny, the most calm and subdued person he knew, that he was about to move three thousand miles away, how would he even begin to break this news to Mike and Jeannie?

"To do what?" Lenny pressed unfazed as Steve returned to the present.

"To go back to college and get my graduate degree."

"And…"

"And what?"

Lenny allowed his annoyance to show. "And study what? Criminology? Law? What?"

"I thought I'd meet with an advisor there and see what we could come up with. I had thought of Criminal Justice or a Law degree."

"You need more of a plan than this, Steve. This isn't like you."

Realizing that Lenny was genuinely interested, Steve relaxed and continued. "Actually, there are so many options. I've been trying to think it all through. What really fascinates me is understanding why people do what they do when it comes to criminal behavior and what can be done to head it off."

"Interesting," Lenny nodded, pleased that Steve did have a direction. Meanwhile, Steve restrained himself from an eye roll as he thought how typical a comment like 'interesting' was from a psychiatrist.

But Lenny continued. "It sounds to me like you'd prefer to address the problem before there is a criminal act. The arrest and the subsequent trial are after-the-fact. But I'm hearing that you are interested in understanding what happens beforehand in order to redirect the criminal behavior."

"Yeah, you're right. If I could do something that actual prevents some of what I've seen, especially with the youth, I think I could really get into that. Some of these young kids hardly have a chance."

"Sounds like you may be interested in getting into someone's head, perhaps?"

Steve looked at Lenny as if he'd grown a third ear. "You mean like studying psychology?"

"You can specialize," Lenny advised. He was secretly pleased that the conversation had been so easy for him to steer. He had long recognized Steve as someone who was caring, compassionate and intelligent enough to have a possible interest in his own chosen field. "Criminal psychology is an incredibly fascinating and growing field. Harvard has a tremendous psychology department. You are aware that B. F. Skinner retired from the staff there only two years ago? It's very prestigious."

"I had forgotten about Dr. Skinner. He's such a pioneer in his field. I did take a course or two in psychology. You don't get far without hearing about Skinner's work."

Lenny saw that his words were sinking in and decided to go further. "You could go all the way and get your doctorate. The career options are many. Police departments look for this type of knowledge. Why, I know many brilliant men who did just that. Me, for one," Lenny smiled. "But you could also work for the FBI or the military as a profiler. With your personality, your years of experience and the advanced degree, the possibilities are endless."

"Don't you have a medical degree, Lenny?" Steve asked.

"Yes, but you don't need to have that in order to be a psychologist. What do you think?"

"I think I'm stunned. It makes a lot of sense to give this some serious thought." Steve pondered for a moment. "You know, I don't want to sound like I'm shorting law enforcement. The whole process is very worthy of so much respect. But when I look back at what my family has done and what I've tried to do, sometimes I feel like I've fallen short."

Lenny was not entirely surprised by this revelation. Years of observing Steve had led the doctor to conclude that something special had motivated the man. Here before him was one of the most promising young police officers on the force. He was management material, and everyone from Mike to the highest ranks knew it. To hear the typically confident Keller say he'd fallen short in life made little sense to Lenny.

"Say more," was the simple request.

Steve was somewhat reluctant, but went ahead. "My family has done great things. You know about my grandfather, of course. But my parents did some amazing things in the short time they had. My dad gave his life trying to stop the Nazis. He wasn't military, but he was part of a group of upstarts who had returned to their homeland on a mission. I honestly believe what he did contributed to their defeat."

Lenny nodded as Steve continued. "My mom carried on my dad's work. She remarried and played an active role in her husband's work in Southeast Asia. Bottom line was she died while she and her husband were trying to establish a plan for France to exit Southeast Asia. All of her adult life, she wanted the killing and the wars to stop."

"And what about you?" Lenny pressed. He noticed that Steve was now sitting up and had more energy than he showed minutes earlier.

"I've come in through the back door. What I do is important, but it doesn't ever seem to stop anything."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I'm sure that by catching some of the killers you and Mike did, you prevented some murders." Lenny still wasn't sure where Steve was going with this.

"I guess that's true to an extent. Still…"

Then it hit Lenny. "Steve, how old were your parents when they died?"

"They were both in their early thirties." Steve responded quietly.

"That's your age. You feel guilty about that, don't you?"

"Guilty about what?" Steve was puzzled.

"That you are still alive at this age. You feel guilty that they are gone, but you're still here."

Steve remained quiet. Lenny was truly stunned. "My God, Steve. Don't feel guilty. They wouldn't want that. They would want you to have the life they weren't able to have. What they did changed the world, that's for certain. Their generation was simply exceptional. But they did it for you, and kids like you, so you could have a better life."

Steve was stoic, except for the tears which began to fill his eyes. He'd never thought about feeling guilty for the life he had now nor the opportunities that his parents never had. But the realization rang true.

"Kiddo, they would want you to be happy. All parents want that. I think it's admirable that you want to contribute the way they did, but they definitely wouldn't want you to kill yourself in the process."

With those words, Lenny took a figurative step back. The doctor saw the young man needed help. Steve needed to understand it was okay to have a happy life, but that it wasn't okay to put himself through the guilt. The guilt would eat him alive or put him at greater risk.

Steve couldn't respond. Could he have been putting himself at greater risk because of guilt? Guilt about his parents or perhaps about the Davies boy? Or both?

"We've uncovered a truth here, haven't we, Steve?"

Steve voice had escaped, but he maintained his composure as he nodded in agreement.

"Promise me two things, Steve." Lenny looked down at the young man whom he knew was listening intently. "One is that we'll talk some more. But moreover, I want you to promise me that no matter what you choose to do with your life, you make that decision without guilt or without feeling any obligation to anyone other than yourself. Can you promise me that?"

Lenny placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I don't know, but I'll try."

"That's a start. I'll be seeing you again soon and we'll talk some more. Okay?"

"Okay," Steve whispered.

As Lenny left, Steve laid his head back on the pillow. There was a lot of truth to what was discussed. There was certainly a lot more clarity. Could he make a decision about his future based solely on the happiness and satisfaction it could bring? He closed his eyes and prayed.


	27. Act 8, Part 1: It's GoodBye Time

Departure

Act 8, Part 1: It's Good-bye Time

* * *

A week later, Steve was released from the hospital. Mike arrived with a set of clothes and shoes and helped make preparations to transport him home. He listened to the doctor deliver the discharge instructions, made arrangements for prescriptions and then waited patiently as a nurse helped the young man get dressed. After a bit of time, they were on the road and headed to Steve's small apartment on Union Street.

"I wish you'd stay with Jeannie and me for a few days. Irene comes over quite a bit too. Between those two girls, you'd fatten up." Mike eyed his partner. Steve's weight loss was indeed noticeable. Already on the thin side before the shooting, the clothes now simply hung on him.

"How is it with you and Irene, anyway? She's over at your place more and more. Perhaps one day, you'll wise up and have her stay for good."

"I'll wise you up." Mike pretended to be outraged and then he broke into a smile. "No, we're doing fine and yes, we are seeing each other more. She's a wonderful woman." Mike was nearly pining and then redirected the conversation back to Steve. "She would love to see you. I still think you should be over with us."

"I appreciate that, but really, Mike, I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed. As tired as I am, I bet I could sleep for a couple of days straight. And I'll find something to eat before I go to bed, I promise."

"The girls already took care of that. You have a well stocked refrigerator. Typical staple food like milk, bread and eggs plus pans of lasagna, fried chicken and pineapple upside down cake."

"Wow, they didn't have to do that, but I'm really glad they did. Especially the cake - that's my favorite."

The pair pulled up in front the Steve's place. Steve looked out the window of Mike's car to his apartment building. "It's been three weeks since I was here."

"Yeah, I remember, you came barreling out because you overslept and thought you were late," Mike chuckled.

"I _was _late. I had a hard time sleeping that night. I was up for a while and then fell back asleep right when the alarm should have gone off. I hate it when that happens."

Mike walked around to the passenger side and helped Steve out of the car. He steadied him and then helped him up the stairs.

"No matter where you go in this city, you have to negotiate stairs. I don't know how handicapped people do it," Mike commented.

"I don't either," Steve agreed as he was nearly out of breath when they reached the top. He leaned against the wall while Mike fished for the keys.

He opened the door to a sparkling clean apartment. Steve made his way over to the couch and quickly sat down. Mike walked over to the refrigerator and looked in.

"My, that looks good. Let me at least fix you something. How about some lasagna?"

"Only if you'll stay and have some, too." Steve now figured it was time to have a talk with Mike. Perhaps over dinner or afterwards wouldn't be a bad idea.

After warming up the food, Mike debated on whether to have Steve eat on the couch or at the table. "Have you got a TV tray?"

"There's one in the kitchen, but really, I'm okay. I can eat at the table."

"Are you sure?" Mike was like a mother hen right now. For the moment, Steve was amused and also touched by the sentiment.

After they ate, Steve asked Mike if he could stay for a little bit. Mike thought his partner looked like he had something on his mind, especially as the conversation had gone quiet while they were eating.

Mike helped him back over to the sofa. "Let me get you a blanket," he said as he headed down the hallway to the bedroom. "And don't roll your eyes at me. I don't even have to look at you to know what you're doing."

Steve was caught mid-roll with that remark and didn't say anything. He took the blanket and threw it over his legs. "If you tuck me in, I'll scream."

"All right, all right. So what's on your mind?" Mike asked as he retreated to a nearby recliner. His tone quickly became serious. "Is this about the job? Have you decided what you're going to do next?"

"Yes, I have. I'm, uh, going to Boston." Steve watched for the reaction in Mike's face. The older man could not hide his disappointment.

"So, you're resigning from the force then." Mike found it difficult to make eye contact, but managed a slight smile. "I understand…believe me, if I had that same opportunity, I'd quit too."

"Yeah, except…I'm not quitting," Steve said with a slight grin. "I'm taking a leave of absence."

"What?" Mike had assumed all along that Steve's days on the force were over.

"It's still being worked out. Rudy, the Chief and Lenny have been trying to put a plan in place with Personnel so I could come back. At the moment, they've approved a six month leave and then that should be extended as they work out the details."

"What details? The Chief? What are you talking about?" This was music to Mike's ears.

"It's such a terrific opportunity. I'm grateful for what my grandfather did and I just can't pass it up. After a lot of soul searching, there are things that I do want to study, so I'm going to take advantage of what he's provided." Mike was delighted to see Steve come alive. "But then I want to come back here. It will be in a different capacity, but the plan is that I'll still be working with the force."

Mike was thrilled. "Okay, Buddy boy. Spill it. What are you going to be doing?"

"I've wanted all along to understand more about what causes criminal behavior and what can be done to head off the crime. But instead of focusing on the science around the crime, I'm going to focus on psychology."

"You're going to be like Lenny?" Mike asked.

"It will take a couple of years to get my graduate degree and then I'll start in on my doctorate. The 'plan' they are working is that I come back here to intern with Lenny, write my dissertation and then return full time."

"You'd be a doctor?"

"Not a medical one, of course, but I would be a PhD."

"Dr. Buddy Boy! Incredible. But why didn't you tell me?" He reached over and swatted Steve on the leg.

"I wanted it to be worked out before I said anything to you. For whatever reason, that was important to me. And it's still not 100% yet, but I've got some good people both here and at the college trying to pull this together."

"And the Chief?"

"Yeah, go figure. Rudy really went to bat for me after Lenny talked to him."

"This is all Lenny's doing, isn't it?" Mike was smiling.

"It was Lenny's idea but Rudy has had a big hand in this, too."

"You talked to Lenny quite a bit during your stay, didn't you?" Mike knew that Lenny had been there almost every other day.

"It's true - Lenny and I talked. Man, we talked a lot. Sometimes too much…" Steve's thoughts drifted to the few 'breakthrough' conversations. "Maybe some day I'll tell you about that, or did he already fill you in on our discussions?"

"No, that's confidential between you and him. You don't have to tell me anything unless you want to. I just want to know if you are okay, you know, in that way. You must be, though, in order for them to want you back."

"Yes, I'm fine. Long story short is that we discovered I was dealing with some leftover guilt from the Davies shooting."

"I could have told you that." Mike knew that event was always fresh in his partner's mind.

"And…apparently, I have some other guilt issues. It's mostly around my parents' early deaths and how that translated to some behaviors on the job, especially recently. We're still working a bit on that."

Mike had seen a change in Steve over the past couple of years. In some ways, he became a better cop. But sometimes he thought his partner had become too single minded on their calls and even a bit self-sacrificing.

"You were fine on the job. Understand that. I couldn't have asked for a better partner."

"Thanks. That means a lot. And I can definitely say the same for you." Steve paused for a moment as allowed the lump in his throat to pass. "At any rate, Lenny did approach me about studying psychology and considering that as a next step. It made a lot of sense. And if it doesn't work out here, I could probably go the FBI or government route. Or even another police department."

"Well, let's keep our hopes up that you come back here, Buddy boy." If Mike had to lose his partner, this was probably the best way. "Hey, and if you need a place to stay when you come back here, you know you always have a home with Jeannie and me."

"Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate it." Both men beamed at each other. Nothing more needed to be said as far as feelings. Mike quickly changed the subject.

"So, you've been a busy guy while you were in the hospital. What does Carolyn think of all of this?"

"Well, hmmm…. How do I say this? Oh, hell. She broke up with me. And before you say anything, I'm fine with it. I didn't want to take her to Boston anyway."

"She broke up with you while you were in the hospital after being shot multiple times? How awful. Why'd she break up with you?"

"She didn't want to invest the time with a 'college boy'. It was okay when I was going to teach, but going back to college to study and not having an income just didn't sit well. Not to mention the move across country."

"You're better off without her. Didn't I tell you that before?"

"I don't remember that, but okay. I mean, Carolyn wasn't all bad. She was self-centered and jealous as all get-out, but I will say she was great in bed."

"Idiot." Mike got up and got a couple of beers.

"Yeah, I'm working through that one too. Apparently, I've been seeing the wrong girls because I felt guilty about outliving my parents. At least that's what the good doctor says."

Mike blurted out a 'humph', but Steve continued. "So, I'd pick these girls that were fun for the short term, but had some sort of screw loose. Conversely, I always passed up the good ones."

"Yes, you had a parade of real winners. Well, here's to Carolyn," Mike said as he handed Steve a bottle. "May she find her happiness making someone else miserable."

"Cheers." Steve raised his bottle to Mike. "I guess you didn't realize what a train wreck your partner was."

"With women, you were more like the Hindenburg. Oh, the humanity! I never knew why that was, but at least your exploits provided some good laughs for me and the guys. With everything else, you were fine. At least I didn't have to worry about you and Jeannie."

Steve felt a kick in his gut which drained half of his energy. "Yeah, she was one of the good ones, so you had nothing ever to worry about. She's been a wonderful friend through all of this."

"Does she know?"

"She knows about the psychology part, but she doesn't know that I may get to return. I just didn't want to disappoint her if it didn't happen."

"She sure is fond of you, I know. I appreciate you taking her feelings into consideration. You've been the big brother she never had."

Steve smiled. Maybe that's what it had been. She was still seeing Dan after all. As Steve continued down this line of thinking, the smile turned into a frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." Steve stalled for a moment. "I'm just thinking about the logistics of all of this. You know, I will need to be heading back east in a couple of weeks. That won't be much time to make the move."

"I'm sorry it has to be so soon, Steve. Are you going to well enough to make the trip?"

"I should be in a couple of weeks. No, it's best I go sooner rather than later. If I can start back to school in the fall, that will mean I'd have a semester under my belt by the time the leave of absence ends. I should know by then if it's the best thing."


	28. Act 8, Part 2: It's Goodbye Time

**Departure**

Act 8, Part 2: It's Good-bye Time

_It was the night before he left for Boston. Steve had already packed up his desk and said good-bye to some of the people at the station. He also turned in his badge and gun. I have to admit, that got to me a little. Even though he was on a 'leave of absence', the duration would be long and the expectation of where he would be reassigned within the department necessitated that he return the two articles which defined his life for the last eight years. _

_With the administrative issues behind us, the next big hurdle would happen that night. A going away party was planned at Clancy's, a bar and dance hall over on Olive Street. Since it was a Thursday night, we figured we'd have the run of the place. Irene and the wives of the other guys in Homicide planned the evening. Rudy, Lessing, Tanner and Healy were coming with their spouses. Haseejian was bringing his sister. Devitt was planning to bring a new girlfriend. Of course, I was coming with Irene and Jeannie was bringing Dan. _

_And my new partner, Glenn Decker, late of Internal Affairs, was going to be there. He and Lenny were both coming solo, as was Steve. I know Steve had no concern with Glenn being there. After all, it was Steve who recommended Glenn and he gladly spent some time with him to help with the transition._

_The women were cooking up something. I think it had to do with getting Steve out on the dance floor to do a bit of harmless flirting and teasing. I've found that most married men are happy to assign the dancing task to others. I figured Steve was a good sport and since the snippy Carolyn was out of the picture, he could turn his charm on full speed. _

_My partner…let me rephrase that…my ex-partner took three weeks to recuperate before the trip rather than the two that he thought he needed. It helped; he was rested and had better color. He was still too thin, but at least didn't look as emaciated as he had when I first took him home. He spent the time packing and tying up loose ends. Glenn was a big help with that. That also gave Glenn and Steve time to talk about 'the old man' and how things worked in Homicide._

* * *

"Where's the guest of honor?" Rudy inquired. As the senior man at the table, he was the de facto host. His men and their spouses did not get together often socially, but Steve's departure was a great excuse. By his count there'd be nearly twenty guests in attendance. The mix of people could be counted on for some lively conversation.

As everyone arrived, the spouses and significant others became reacquainted. Wine and beer flowed. Steve was one of the last to appear. The 'good-byes' had become progressively challenging and he was truly putting off the party as much as he could. While he knew his friends wanted to give him a proper send-off, the evening would take an emotional toll.

"Now, no one get too drunk," Rudy instructed as he waved to the barmaid for the next round. "The last thing we need is to have a cop with a DUI. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the guests raised their drinks in unison.

"Except for you, young man. If you wish to tie one on, just go ahead. I'm sure one of us will be happy to drive you home." Rudy said as he nodded towards Steve.

"I'm leaving in the morning, so I can't overdo it too much. I get kicked out of my apartment at noon." Steve grinned. "It'd be bad for me to be hung over and asleep on the couch when the new tenants move in."

The group chuckled. "You still have furniture there?" Rudy asked.

"It's a furnished apartment. I really don't have many possessions. A ton of clothes, as I'm sure you all know, and a few household items and books, but that's about it. I was able to pack everything in a half dozen boxes and ship them out."

"No moving vans?"

"No - when I leave, it's just me, my car, my record collection and just enough change of clothes to drive three thousand miles."

"That's a hell of a long drive, Steve," Tanner commented.

"Yeah - I'm giving myself a week. I've never driven across country like that, so I'm sure I'll see some new things."

"What's your route?" Lenny asked.

"I start out on I-80. That takes me through Reno, Salt Lake and Nebraska. Eventually I get to Chicago. I thought I'd go up through Detroit and over through southern Ontario on into New York. I pick up 90 in Buffalo and that'll get me over to Boston."

"You'll see a lot of the country that way. I hitchhiked across the country about twenty years ago. It was incredible." Lenny never failed to amaze the people he was with.

Steve shook his head. "I'll settle for driving. But, yeah, I've always wanted to see Mount Rushmore, so I thought I might vary the route a little bit and catch some of the sights through the backroads."

"Flyover country," Roy Devitt commented grumpily. "You should sell the car and buy a plane ticket. What the hell do you need a car in Boston for anyway?"

"I'm keeping my wheels, man, and besides, it will be fun to cross the country in a sports car." Steve got a sparkle in his eye when he talked about his Porsche. He loved to drive fast.

"Now you be careful. I don't need to be hearing from the highway patrol that they found you in pieces along I-80," Mike reprimanded the young man.

"Yes, Mother." Steve smirked at his former partner and then looked over to Glenn. "Get used to that!"

* * *

Some of the guests had brought Steve small farewell gifts. Indeed, Norm Haseejian had something very special for his coworker.

"Steve, I want you to meet my sister, Louise. She's always wanted to meet me the boys in the office, so I thought this would be a good opportunity." Norm felt the need to explain why his sister was his date instead of a girlfriend.

"Why, it's my pleasure, ma'am." Steve nodded to the woman who appeared to be well into her fifties.

She returned the smile. "This is for you, Steve." She handed him a small pound-sized bag which was wrapped in tissue paper.

"You shouldn't have." Steve said as he unwrapped the gift. He smiled in appreciation. "It's Kona coffee - and whole bean, too. How wonderful! This is the good stuff."

"Yes, it is," Haseejian agreed. "I got it while I was on vacation in Hawaii last month."

Steve remembered the group had been a bit short handed while he was recovering from the shooting. The men were due their vacation time and Norm was on schedule for a trip to Honolulu. "How was your time away, Norm? We haven't talked to much lately."

"Yeah, well, I understand you've been a little preoccupied and all." Norm teased lightly.

"Ain't it the truth." Steve responded with a grin aimed at Louise.

"It was a good time. I got to meet with some of our colleagues on the islands and some wonderful vets who had spent time in a German prison camp."

"Sounds like you had an adventure," Steve replied. He looked at Norm and Louise and was amazed at the resemblance. How there could be a female form of Haseejian was an unsolved genetic mystery.

Norm smiled and told Steve about the case he had been on, his new friends, and the crazy cockatoo that tried to drink his coffee. As it turned out, the embarrassed owner of the cockatoo bought Norm Kona coffee as a replacement. He was hooked and brought back several pounds.

Steve raised his eyebrows. "But did this experience teach you to make better coffee?"

"Well, I brought some Kona in as a treat for the guys. But then when that ran out, it was that same old tar tasting bitter stuff that you grew to love."

"Blech," Steve teased. "Thanks for this, though. I know I'll go through it fairly quickly." Steve winked at Norm's sister. The charm was in full throttle.

* * *

Suddenly, the disc jockey started his turntable. The women eyed one another mischeviously. "Okay, girls," Irene instructed. "Now comes the fun."

She wagged her eyebrows at Steve. "Sweetheart, we ladies wanted to give you a proper send-off." Steve's eyes open wide at the insinuation. "Each one of us picked out a song for you, and we're going to take you out onto the dance floor."

"Oh, no…" Steve laughed as he raised his hands in defense. "Irene, you are scaring me here."

"It will be fun. And I'm first." Mike's girlfriend got up and grabbed Steve's hand.

"Help me," the young man squeaked to the older detective.

"He's not going to know what hit him," Mike commented dryly to Glenn. He peered over to Dan and Jeannie. Dan looked uncomfortable, while Jeannie had a tightly drawn expression across her face. Mike thought perhaps the pair had a lovers spat before the party.

The song stylings of Barry White came through the stereo speakers. "You're The First, The Last, My Everything" seemed to be an appropriate song to begin the evening. Irene grabbed Steve around the waist and led the dance. He was beet red to start, but by the end was clearly having fun. When the song was over, the wives of Tanner, Lessing, and Healey took their turns. The disc jockey played Marvin Gaye, Billy Paul and Al Green while each woman swooned to music with their handsome dance partner.

"I think the girls are reliving their youth," Lessing commented. He could hear hoots and cheering coming from the other women as well as some of other patrons. Clearly, the atmosphere was festive.

"'Me and Mrs. Jones'? I think we're going to need to hose the women down when we get home." Rudy looked over at his wife who was next to dance and had planned to take the musical tribute in a different direction. As Mrs. Healey sat down after a rousing dance to "Let's Get It On", the captain's wife grabbed Steve for a little bit of Grand Funk Railroad. "Some Kind of Wonderful" blared while the pair danced and ended up singing repeatedly the latest line of the song.

"Good Lord, Irene. What have you started?" Mike asked his lovely companion. She grinned back at Mike and then changed her expression completely as looked over to his solemn daughter and her date. They were watching intently, but not saying anything.

* * *

After several songs, Steve tried to be considerate of those ladies who weren't part of the initial spouses group. He offered to dance with Roy's date, but she shyly declined. Shrugging his shoulders, he offered his hand to Louise and smiled. "I thought you would never ask," she said warmly.

The Rolling Stone's "She's a Rainbow" began playing and the two attempted an almost formal cotillion dance to go with the music box melody. Norm grinned from ear to ear as he saw his sister dance for the first time in years.

Afterward, Steve kissed his dance partner's hand and escorted her to her seat. "Ladies," Steve said as he grabbed his beer and raised it in a toast. "I did not expect what you did for me this evening. You've worn me out, but I have had a wonderful time." The ladies responded with a giggle and then raised their glasses to the young man.

He looked at Irene and then peered around for the men's room. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't take too long, sugar. We're going to want seconds," Irene called out.

"And thirds!" Louise added.

* * *

When Steve returned, he extended his hand to Jeannie. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure yet this evening…"

She looked over at Dan and smiled shyly as he nodded. At that moment, Irene attempted to engage Dan in a conversation. Steve and Jeannie made their way to the dance floor and he wrapped his arm around her waist and took her by the hand as the music started.

Frankie Valli's voice sang "My Eyes Adored You" in the background.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," Steve spoke lowly to Jeannie as he held her in a rhythmic embrace. Indeed, she didn't visit Steve as often once she learned he had decided to move to Boston. "I missed you."

She remained quiet for a moment as she listened to the lyrics. The meaning of the verses seemed to apply so much to their particular situation. She wrapped her arms around her friend and moved her lips toward his ear. "I've missed you, too. Steve, I'm so sorry. I thought by making myself scarce, it would be easier."

"Aw, Jeannie. I'm sorry, too. This is definitely the worst part."

Steve closed his eyes and remembered the times that he and Mike picked the girl up at the bus station as she returned home from college. It seemed like every trip home she made resulted in some adventure for the trio. The couple continued to sway to the music.

Irene gazed at the pair, as did Dan. "Dan, would you like to dance?"

"No, thank you, Irene." Dan anticipated that Irene would try to take his mind off of what he already knew was true and his response was terse. Steve's move to Boston was upsetting for Jeannie. There were clearly feelings Jean had for the other man that Dan knew was based on more than friendship.

"I wish this was easier. I feel like I'm walking away from family," Steve noted.

Jeannie nodded, but didn't want to say more.

The couple held each other tighter and continued to sway until the music ended. Dan couldn't take the sight anymore and rose to cut in. Irene held her breath and Mike noticed the quick glimpse of panic in her face. He looked out onto the dance floor where nearly a half dozen couples were slow dancing and saw his daughter and Steve, with Dan close by. Mike could do nothing but hold his breath as well.

As the music ended, Steve gave Jeannie a light kiss on the forehead. By then, Dan had reached them. Steve broke apart the embrace and turned his attention to Dan. He touched Dan on the arm lightly which seemed to take the other man off guard. He whispered something in his ear and then walked off the dance floor.

"Be good to her," was all that Steve said. As he walked back to the table, the former detective began planning his exit from the party.

* * *

_a/n: There were some real 'gems' when it came to 70's music. It was a treat to think back on songs of my childhood which could fit this scene. Hopefully the readers have heard some of these songs, especially those that are outside of the country. The inspiration for the party and dance scene came from SNL (an American show), where the cast members danced with the departing Kristin Wiig to Mick Jagger singing, "She's a Rainbow". _

_A couple of nods to fellow writers: first, to 'Tanith' for bringing back a fun musical memory in her "Seeing is Believing" story and also to 'jodm' for her wonderful two SOSF triple-crossovers that featured the colorful Haseejian, ("Mistaken Identity" and "Close Encounters of the Cockatoo Kind")._


	29. Act 8, Part 3: It's Goodbye Time

**Departure**

Act 8, Part 3: It's Good-bye Time

* * *

Steve returned to the table where Mike, Irene and the others sat. He tried to put on a brave face after letting Jeannie go. Fate had not been kind to the pair. She was simply too young when they first met. Then, she later became off limits while he was partnered with her father. Now, when they could have started something, she was with someone else and he was headed to the east coast.

_Bad timing_, the young man lamented silently. Indeed, after all that he'd be through, in the last few minutes, weeks and years, Steve simply wanted to get in his car and drive away. He cherished his coworkers and looked forward to returning to the department in a different capacity, but for the moment, it was time to depart. It would be a sabbatical and a way to refresh his mind and start again. He couldn't wait to begin his new life.

* * *

"Irene, let's have one more dance and then I need to go," Steve said to the woman who tried to make his last evening in San Francisco memorable.

She looked at him with a mix of sadness and understanding. "Of course, sweetheart." Mike and the others were engaged in conversations and didn't notice the pair as they returned to the dance floor.

"A nice slow song, that's the ticket," Irene cooed as she snuggled up to her partner. "One of my favorites."

"'Unchained Melody'. I like this one, too." Another song of unrequited love actually fit well with Steve's mood.

"So romantic," Irene teased. "Darling, if I were twenty five years younger…"

"Or if I were ten years older…" Steve grinned and responded with the familiar line.

"Now you're being too kind." Irene adored her dance partner. They had met only a year ago when she and Mike began dating, but they had quickly developed a chemistry of their own. For her, it was not romantic, but instead a mix of platonic and maternal feelings.

"Mike's got himself a winner in you. You are two of my favorite people. I hope you stay together and remain very happy."

"It's not us I'm worried about," Irene led as Steve looked on obliviously. Then it struck him.

"Sure, Dan and Jeannie. They didn't look very happy tonight." There was a sadness in his tone.

_I want to hit him,_ Irene thought. She fought to regain her composure. _For such a smart young man, he has no idea._

Conceding, Irene quickly changed the subject. "Darling, I know you want to get home and then leave straight away in the morning."

Steve nodded his agreement.

"I fixed a care package for you to take. Jeannie had a hand it in as well. Some homemade goodies and other things for your trip. I was going to bring it tonight, but I left it at Mike's. Would you be able to swing by tomorrow morning on your way out?"

"Irene, that is so very sweet of you. You don't have to do this."

"But I already did and I don't want the effort to go to waste. Jeannie would be disappointed, too. Please, can you come by in the morning? What time are you leaving?"

"I thought around seven would be good. It will be early, but I'll be going against traffic."

"Okay, swing by then, please?"

"Sure." He drew Irene closer as they finished their dance and returned to their table.

* * *

A short time later, the group broke up and went their separate ways. Jeannie and Dan had been the first to leave, saying their goodbyes right after the dance. Steve waited a reasonable amount of time considering he was the guest of honor and then bid adieu to his colleagues. Mike and Irene walked out with him to the parking lot.

"Oh, we've got that package we were going to give him," Mike said quietly to Irene. Steve was noticeably distracted, looking for his keys and juggling an armload of small gifts.

"No, it's back at your place." Irene said firmly and quietly.

"No, it's in the car." Mike's tone was unwitting. He, of course, was correct…but Irene was right.

Irene issued Mike an angry look and gritted, "No, it-is-not-there. Steve is going to need to come by in the morning to pick-it-up."

Mike got the message. "Oh…um, you're right." He looked fearfully at Irene.

"Hey, I've seen that look before," Steve chuckled as he entered belatedly into the conversation. "It's when he's done something to rile Jeannie. She lets him have it. I think you've learned her secret." Steve and Irene grinned at each other, as he kissed her on the cheek. "Michael, I guess I'll see you in the morning."

Mike nodded.

Steve got in his car. "Thanks for everything," he said as he drove away.

* * *

The pair remained in the parking lot. "What was that about?" Mike was clueless.

"What, dear?" It wasn't that Irene didn't want to answer. She just hadn't vetted her plan completely. She was stalling for time.

"The care package. You know good and well where that thing is. It's in the back seat of my car." Mike was letting his irritation show.

"She loves him." It was a simple statement that meant the world to Irene.

"Who is 'she' and who is 'him'?' Mike replied in a grammatically awkward fashion.

"'She' is your daughter. And 'him' is that young man who just drove off."

"Oh, yeah." Mike replied quietly.

"You know?"

"She's had a thing for him since the first time I brought him home. She was in high school. He knows she's off limits."

"But why? Why, Mike Stone, is your daughter off limits to that young man? He doesn't work for you anymore."

"What does it matter? She's had a school girl crush on him for six years now. We don't need to throw that both at them. Yes, she's upset…"

"She's devastated." Irene did not want Jeannie's feelings to be trivialized.

"Don't be overly dramatic. She'll get over it." Mike wanted to dismiss the topic quickly.

"But he loves her."

"Who? Steve? He doesn't know his ass from a coat rack when it comes to women." He felt badly speaking ill of the young man, but the fact was that prior to Carolyn, Steve's track record for maintaining a romantic relationship for any length of time was nothing short of disasterous.

"What? All these years. I thought you liked him." She felt betrayed on Steve's behalf.

"Of course I like him," Mike shouted. "But when it comes to women… Irene, in the six years I've known him, there have been sixty women. Probably more. Way more."

"But there's only one love." She cringed at how corny that sounded, but it was true.

"You've been reading too many Harlequin romances, sweetheart." That was unintentionally condescending. He knew he had crossed the line and tried a softer approach. "Look, let him go. Let him get on with his life, and let her be happy with Dan."

"She doesn't love Dan. And Dan knows it. They'll break up soon, just you watch."

"Okay, then she'll find someone else. Or perhaps she'll find no one else and live a happy spinster life. Whichever, we can't interfere."

"He loves her. He told me."

"What? When?"

"Remember at our dinner party when he was talking about his father being from France and how he knew a little French from his time abroad?"

"Yes…"

"He spoke a couple of sentences and then said it translated into how good the roast beef was, but the green beans were a little overcooked. Do you remember?"

Mike chuckled. "I remember Jeannie wanted to belt him for insulting her cooking."

"But that wasn't what he said. I had six years of French, mon cher. He said that her boyfriend was a buffoon…"

"Well, he was right, at least that night…"

"and that he, himself, was jealous. Steve said that she simply took his breath away. It was one of the most romantic things I've ever heard. But he wouldn't admit it publicly. Instead, he's going away like some wounded puppy. He's giving her up because he doesn't think she loves him."

'He knows she has a thing for him," Mike countered matter-of-factly.

"He knew about the schoolgirl crush, but he sees her as an adult now and he thinks she's with Dan."

Mike paused for a moment. He knew he could be guilty of seeing his grown daughter as a teenager. "So what does giving him a care package have to do with anything?" The man was still not fitting the pieces together.

"Steve has to know the truth before he leaves. And so does she. He's coming over tomorrow and we're going to see that it happens. They have to know." Irene was concrete in her statement.

"Irene, I don't like this. We shouldn't interfere."

"If I'm wrong, I'll apologize."

"If you're wrong, we may lose the friendship of one of the finest young men I know."

* * *

Morning came quickly and Irene saw the small tan Porsche pull along side the curb. Steve got out of the car and stared at the house. How many times had he come by to pick Mike up for work? How many times had he come over for lunch or dinner, especially when Jeannie was home?

Irene pulled back the curtain. "I'm going to get Jeannie. I hope she's not still asleep. You go answer the door".

"Yes, ma'am." Mike wasn't sure whether to be amused about Irene's focus or concerned about the events which were about to unfold. One thing he knew was that it was best left beyond his control.

After a quick knock on the door, Mike greeted his former colleague. "Hey, Buddy boy. You ready to take off on that long road trip?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Steve was dressed in a comfortable flannel shirt, jeans and a ballcap. He took off his sunglasses and stuffed them in his pocket.

"You're not hung over or anything?" There was an edge of concern in the older man's voice.

"No, I'm fine. The girls worked me so hard on the dance floor that I burned off any buzz I was getting."

The pair's attention turned to the two women descending the stairs. The ladies stood in contrast. For being so early in the morning, Irene was neat and well put together in a nice summery pantsuit.

Jeannie, on the other hand, trudged behind her, still dressed in her pajamas and a robe. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were puffy. The young woman had spent a restless night crying over Steve's leaving and it showed. When she saw the young man, she was embarrassed.

Irene led the girl over to where the two men were standing. No one said a word until Mike spoke to Steve.

"Well, Irene is of the opinion that you two need to talk before you leave town. I don't want to interfere in either of your personal lives, so I'm not saying a word." Mike turned towards the kitchen. "I'm going to make some coffee."

Steve was stunned and confused.

Irene noticed the expression and responded. "J'ai estudie six ans de presence francaise. Je connais la difference entre le boeuf et un bouffon." _(translated: "I studied French for six years. I can tell the difference between beef and a buffoon.")_

A slow blush fell across Steve's face as he realized her meaning. "Donc, vous savez?" _("So, you knew?")_

"Juste liu dire…" _("Just tell her…")_ Irene said as she grabbed Steve's hand and placed it on Jeannie's. "I'm going to help Mike make the coffee," she called out as she went into the kitchen.

"Steve, what's going on?" Jeannie looked at the hand which held hers.

He looked down, but then interlaced his fingers with hers. "Irene is encouraging me to tell you something." He didn't know quite how to say what he needed to say.

"What is it, Steve?"

"Do you remember about a year and a half ago, you flew home because you thought I had been badly injured on the job?"

"I remember." Jeannie frowned at that thought. She had been worried about Steve and couldn't figure out why her father acted the way he did at the time. Steve was fine and Jeannie would later find out the whole thing had been part of trap her father and Devitt had set to catch a couple of rogue cops.

Steve recalled, "You were so mad when you realized it had been a ploy. When you saw me at the hospital, you called me a 'pig'."

Jeannie giggled at the memory. "I was mad because no one told me anything. As for the 'pig' remark, you deserved it."

"I…," Steve was at a loss for words but knew he needed to take the plunge. "Jeannie, I fell in love with you at that moment. The feeling has never stopped."

Jeannie stood stock still. Steve didn't know if this had upset her or if he had made some mistake by telling her the story. Then she smiled broadly and flung her arms around his neck. "I love you, too!" she whispered into his ear.

"What about Dan?" Steve never understood that relationship and didn't know how it impacted what was happening now. All he knew was that he was indeed relieved that his feelings were shared.

"We broke up last night. It was mutual. We should have called it quits long ago. I really loved you, but I didn't think you had the same feelings for me. And then since you were going away, I didn't know what to do. I was wrong to mislead him like I did."

"I understand. It was similar to what I was doing with Carolyn. I was wrong, too." Steve held tightly onto the pretty blonde. "Babe, we almost blew it, didn't we?"

"Yes. It seems like everyone knew but us. Dan knew it, as well, but thought things would change when you left. Last night was the final straw for him. But I had to end it anyway. No matter what became of you and me, it wasn't fair to him. Hey?"

"Hey, what?"

"Did you really fall in love with me because I called you 'pig'?"

Steve chuckled. "You were teasing, but I could tell you were still mad. No one else would call me that, joking or not. It was kind of sexy. It made me realize that you weren't a kid anymore." Steve ran is fingers through her hair. "Okay? Now, too much talk..."

Steve lifted her chin and let his lips meet hers. He tightened his hold and kissed her gently. He wrapped both arms around her and kissed her again. This time the kiss lasted much longer.

Mike and Irene returned to the living room and found the two still in an embrace.

"Told ya!" Irene whispered and beamed.

"Ahem!" Mike bellowed. "Well, now what?"

The two disentangled quickly.

The pair was a sight. Still looking a shade too thin in his casual clothes, Steve also showed some residual fatigue from the events of the summer. But his appearance was nothing compared to Jeannie. Her puffy and dark-circled eyes under a mess of tangled hair peered back at her father. Mike nearly chuckled at how his daughter's oversized robe drooped sloppily onto the floor.

He looked at the couple. Perhaps it was love.

Slowly, Steve understood Mike's question. He was on his way to Boston for at least two years. _Now what?_

"I'm sorry." It was all Steve could think to say to the older couple. He had made everything suddenly so complicated.

A look of concern washed over Jeannie's face. What would happen now? While the last five minutes had been the happiest in her life, was she up for a long distance relationship?

Mike broke into a grin. "You know, Buddy boy, I never did like the idea of you making that trip alone. Three thousand miles is a long way and you are still not completely recovered. Look at you! You look like a good puff of wind could blow you over."

Steve was not certain where Mike was going with this line of thought, but finally, Mike said the unimaginable.

"I don't think Jeannie's got any pressing plans. Sweetheart, why don't you help Steve make the drive to Boston? I'll bet by the time you get there, you two will have everything sorted out."

Jeannie looked over to Steve and he nodded enthusiastically. "I don't have much room in the car, so pack light. We'll figure it out as we go."

Jeannie quickly kissed Steve and then threw her arms around her father. "I love you, Daddy." She turned and bounded up the stairs with new life.

Steve turned to his former partner. "Mike, I don't know what to say."

"Just…take care of her." Watery blue eyes gazed at the young man straight on.

* * *

_a/n: Eek - I guess I'm just a romantic at heart. Epilogue coming next! _

_"Unchained Melody" was written by Alex North and Hy Zaret, and most famously recorded by the Righteous Brothers. If you ever wanted about the title, the song was written for a prison movie called, "Unchained". _

_The 'pig' episode was "Endgame" from season 3._


	30. Epilogue

**Departure**

Epilogue

* * *

The squad room was as close to chaos as it had ever been. Mike, Glenn and the other detectives had arrested what remained of the notorious Tannenger gang. A day before, the group kidnapped a jury who was in the process of deliberating on the case of the leader, Nick Tannenger. They wanted freedom for their leader and threatened to kill the jurists one by one until their demands were met. The first jurist was killed that evening. With that, Mike and his team worked to secure the remaining jurists' freedom.

The break in the case came when one of the gang members, Barbara Ross, tried to obtain critical medication for a sick jurist. The young woman didn't look to be much beyond legal age. When the police found her, she fired upon them and fled. They tracked her to a warehouse where the hostages were being held. A gun battle ensued, killing two gang members and another hostage.

Back at the station, Glen pushed Ross into one of the holding cells. "She doesn't look like the violent type," he said to his senior partner. Mike cringed a bit at the comment as he realized that his former partner would have said the same.

"Just remember, a wolf in sheep's clothing is still a wolf. It doesn't matter how innocent they look," Mike replied tersely.

"It's like some of the cases I worked in Internal Affairs when a cop had done something wrong. You always want to assume a brother is innocent, but you can't. I learned that early on and I learned it the hard way." Glenn had gained a wealth of experience during his time at the department.

"It's one of the toughest lessons, kiddo…" Mike stopped as he heard the phone on his desk.

"Stone…"

"Hi, Daddy! I just wanted to let you know we got to Boston." The happy voice at the end of the line brought an unmistakable smile to the older man's face.

"Well, it's about time. It took you nearly two weeks to get there. What took you so long?" Mike had a hint of teasing in his voice. "Car trouble?"

"Umm…no." His daughter wasn't quite sure how to respond. "We were just…sightseeing."

"Uh-huh. Is that what they call it now? I was young once, too, you know."

"Daddy!" the tone was a mix of embarrassment, disapproval and disbelief. And then it quickly changed to excitement. "Daddy, I have something else to tell you."

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"While we were in Niagara Falls, Steve proposed. It was so wonderful and so romantic!"

"He did, did he?" Mike did his best to act surprised.

"We were standing on one of the overlooks. There were people all around us. All of a sudden, Steve got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I don't know how, but he had a ring."

"I take it you said 'yes'?" She couldn't see his smile through the phone, but Glenn did. The younger man walked over to the office door and leaned on the doorframe to listen in.

"Of course! After all this time of knowing each other, it didn't take long for us to realize that this was the right thing to do. Steve didn't want us living together without at least being engaged. We'll get married next summer."

"Well, sweetie, I couldn't be happier. Tell Steve I said so. And I can't wait to walk you down the aisle." With that, he winked at Glenn.

"I love you, Daddy!"

"I love you, too, sweetheart. I'll talk to you soon." Mike hung up the phone and looked at Glenn.

"Down the aisle? That's wonderful, Mike!"

"Yeah, Steve had called me when they got to Chicago and asked my permission. Apparently, he was able to sneak away to buy a ring. It may seem rushed, but they've known each other for years and it just feels right."

"I'm sure it is." Glenn noticed a puzzled look on Mike's face. "What is it?"

"She's called me "Mike" since she was a teenager. Now that she and Buddy boy are together, she's only called me "Daddy". Why do you think that is?"

Glenn gave the matter only a quick thought before he had an answer. "Perspective. While it was just the two of you, you had to work together to make it through. Almost like a partnership. Now that she's got a life partner, you've been promoted up the food chain. You're 'Daddy' again," Glenn paused and grinned at his next thought. "And just think, at the rate they're going, you'll be 'Grandpa' soon."

"Oh…" Mike waved Glenn off with the last remark. "Grandpa…" Then the thought soaked in and Mike had to wipe the tears that began to well in his eyes.

Wanting to quickly change the subject to something less emotional, Glenn asked, "Hey, what do you think Steve will call you now that he's about to become your son-in-law?"

"Well, knowing what he and my daughter have been up to, it had better be 'Sir'."

* * *

_And there it was. At the start of my summer, I said that as long as I had my daughter and my partner, it was all I needed. Little did I know that those two people would end up three thousand miles away building a new life three months later. _

_I missed them both, but that was more than offset by knowing that they had each other. The other offset was knowing that I still had both of them in my life. After all, Boston was only six hours away by plane. Jeannie had already said she'd be back home while Steve was taking his mid-term and finals._

_Glenn turned out to be a fantastic choice as partner. His years in Internal Affairs gave him a tough skin, but also gave him a great background on procedure. While not as well read as my prior partner, Glenn had great enthusiasm although sometimes to the point of being overzealous. The one thing he had in common with Steve was that they both cared deeply for the work that they did. At the end of the day, that was all I could ask for._

_Dan got a promotion, God love him. He ended up taking Glenn's role in Internal Affairs. It was a great match. Dan's military experience was the perfect prerequisite for the job. After he and Jeannie broke up, I felt compelled to call him and clear the air when I'd heard his was up for a role in IA. _

_It wasn't that I did anything wrong, but I figured he was a little burned by the two lovebirds who had migrated east. He was..and even more so when I told him that they were engaged. But he also knew what had happened was beyond his control. We talked through it all, and I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry that I didn't have a niece or someone to introduce him to. _

_But then that would interfere with my 'no interfering' policy. That worked so well before…. _

_And then speaking of interfering…with a capital "I": Irene gloated for days over her success of getting the kids together. If I heard "I told you so" once, I heard it one hundred times. She immediately started working on Glenn. That maternal thing she has going works on him almost as well as it did Steve. As long as Irene's around, I doubt it will be dull. I never liked dull anyway._

_So I'll rephrase what I said earlier, "As long as I have my girlfriend and my partner, I have all that I need…here." And then one day, if I'm lucky enough to have all four back here together again, I wil be the happiest man on earth. I thank God because I am a very blessed man._

_-finis- (finally!)_

a/n - The Tannenger plot was part of the original Thrill Killers. In no way to do I own that story line (nor any of the characters, etc.).

It was a fun story to write. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
